Tattered Ends and Souls
by landis icelilly
Summary: She fought for her kingdom, he sought for forgiveness. But both found more. Contains spoilers and mature content. Beginning AshexVossler, main pairing AshexBasch. Please read and review! Cooming soon... Chapter 12 part 2!
1. Chapter 1

_Hello everyone! I guess all I have to say is that I am completely new at this so please be nice and mature when you read and review my story :-) Oh... and I will try my hardest to respond back to every review that is possible. This story contains spoilers through out the game and has some 'mature audience only' content... so don't say I didn't warn you:-) So read on and please drop me a review to let me know how I'm doing! Thanks!_

_landis icelilly_

_**Discl:** I don't own anything in this story... it would be nice to though :-)_

_(rev: 9/5/07)_

* * *

In a dark, dank and certainly smelly sewer was the beautiful and vagrant princess, Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca. She sat in a dimly lit underground hide out on the cold slimy cobblestone steps wondering just exactly how her life had gotten to be this abominable, just like her surroundings. The air underneath the city of Rabanastre was less than pleasant, reminding her of some of the more atrocious tavern bathrooms that she had been quite disturbed to use in the past two years, for fear of catching some nasty disease from them. 

Ashe subconsciously crinkled her nose in disgust at the memory. With a shaky hand she ran it roughly through her dirty blonde hair thinking back to a time when it had been an almost platinum blonde from her time spent playing in the palace gardens all day long when she had been younger. The memory made her heart ache and made her wish that she could start her life over again. Start with a fresh new beginning and somehow find a way to prevent everything that had happened from ever happening at all.

Hugging her knees to her chest tightly, she slowly rocked herself back and forth on the chilly stone. Her thoughts were of the past and the current happenings of her life. She recalled a time in her existence when she had not a care in Ivalice, free to anything and everything she wanted. She never thought of herself becoming the mentally and emotionally wounded, dejected, and depressed soul that she found herself to be now.

Ashelia, only one of nine heirs to the Dalmascan throne remembered how her father, King Raminas, and her mother had been overjoyed about the birth of their only daughter to their family. Her father had always, ever since she could remember, told her just how special she was to them even though she didn't think so herself. She was only a girl in a palace that would never see or have to experience the burden of rule to a kingdom, so why was she special? But when she would always ask him _'why?'_ his answer would constantly be _'just because you are.'_

Her father believed that because she was their last borne child and heir to the Dalmascan throne that she need not go through all the lessons and teachings that her older brothers had gone through. They had a much greater contingent at taking over their father's throne than she herself would have. So with that in mind, King Raminas only put her through the minimal teachings that she would need to survive being a member of the royal family… proper etiquette, how to maintain that regal appearance that was ever so demanded of and a bit of self defense just in case of the worst, were just a few to mention.

Ashe let out a sharp sigh at the thought. _Some way I'm surviving, ha!_ _Just look at me now_.

She was sitting in a nasty, smelly and disgusting sewer underneath her city that she should be looking over and protecting from the dangers that consistently threatened it. But truth be told she wasn't. She couldn't.

Sadly she lowered her head down placing her hands on her face and resting her forehead on the tops of her bent knees.

She felt as though she should be fearful of this truth. Fearful that she will never regain her family's kingdom or her old well being back, which she was, but it didn't scare her as much anymore as it had before. Living in a sewer for two long years, going through _everything_ that she had been through changes a person forever as she was now learning for herself. There had only been one other time she recalled in her existence that she had let fear take hold of her and that day had scared her mentally forever. It was the day her mother had passed away, taking a little part of her heart with her.

* * *

It was sometime in the late Dalmascan summer when she had passed. Little Ashe, just about six years old, was heading toward the giant heavy mahogany doors of her parents' bedchamber to visit her ailing mother. Sadly Ashe didn't know that her mother wasn't just sick like she had been explained to, she was dieing from a rare disease that even the healers had no cure for. Her father had requested that the healers not reveal to Ashe her mother's true condition. Ashe was too young to be trying to understand that her mother was going to die and she would never be able to see or feel her mother's touch again. 

Gently and quietly Ashe pushed the heavy door open, feeling the stuffy and stale draft coming from behind the doors. It was dark in her mother's chambers; the only light that lit up the room was from the evening sun that was seeping through the thick curtains that covered the grand Rozzarian doors leading to her parents' balcony.

Taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dimly lit atmosphere, she strained to hear the raspy labored breathing of her mother from over by the bed. She heard nothing.

Nothing but silence and it made the hair on her tiny arms stand on end. Ashe never liked that feeling when it would occur; something bad always came with it. She was sure of it, especially at that moment. Finally when her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, she made her way soundlessly toward the oversized bed, which she could make out the lifeless frame of a body in it. Upon reaching the side of the bed, Ashe hesitantly lifted her small hand to touch her mothers pale white cheek and was frightened when it was ice cold and clammy to her touch.

Quietly she uttered, "Mommy?" She felt the sudden knot that had formed at the pit of her stomach appear.

Not getting a response from the body laying in front of her, she quickly grabbed her mother's shoulder and gently shook it. She repeated herself.

"Mommy?"

Still, her mother didn't stir.

"MOMMY! Please wake up! Mommy!" she began to scream as she violently shook her mothers lifeless shoulder.

She quickly came to the realization that her mother was no longer among the living and had left her here. Alone.

* * *

As she still sat on the icy cold step, she thought how ridiculously alone she had felt at that moment when she found her mother dead. But she soon figured out that she really wasn't alone at all. She still had her eight brothers and her father, which she grew inevitability close to them. 

Her brothers would each individually take her, on some days, out to the palace gardens, and teach her little life skills that they felt she needed to know. But mostly all of their teachings were of battle strategy and proper sword wielding techniques, since they had thought she wouldn't really have a use for them in her lifetime, it helped her brothers to work with her and hone their own skills and training at the same time. Her brothers and father both had agreed that if she was to be trained, that it be with a sword and not with any of the smaller weapons. Ashe had protested to this saying that her Mythril Sword was too heavy for her tiny frame to handle. Then she remembered them telling her that she had to build up her muscle and arm strength first then she would be able to exploit her skills with any sword she wanted. Still fighting against their decision of a sword and not a dagger or a pistol, she was rewarded with the answer of, _'any other weapon is not suitable for a lady to use.'_

She would always become angered by that remark. She always wanted to learn how to wield the exotic daggers that many of her bedtime storybooks talked about. She was also intrigued by all the different pistols that she had seen her many guards carry as their secondary weapon of choice and wondered why she couldn't learn to manage one too. The sleekness and shininess of the metals that created these weapons always caught her attention and made her think that someday she would have her chance to show them that she was very well capable of handling them on her own, whether it _was_ _suitable_ for a lady or not.

Slowly, Ashe pulled her hand away from her face and rested it on the hilt of one her Platinum Daggers that was concealed within the side of her shin guard. She had two of these daggers invisible to the eyes that had been custom made to her specifications, hidden in each of her shin guards. No one knew of them but her, not even her guardian of the time, Captain Vossler York Azelas.

Grabbing the hilt of the dagger, she drew it out only halfway until she saw the satisfactory gleam it gave off from her meticulous polishing and cleaning routine. It gave her joy knowing that she had rebelled against her brothers and father. It had given her freedom to be herself. She had told them that one day she would learn to utilize these weapons, whether it be from their teachings or of her own accord, but she would do it.

But as if she had somehow knew it all along, it was of her own accord that she had learned and taught herself how to utilize them.

At the time she had just turned sixteen and was feeling the sudden rebellious streak that grew within her blood. She had wanted to expand her abilities to wield other weapons, but knew she couldn't do it alone. She wanted to prove her father and brothers wrong, that she was just as strong as any of them. Maybe just as strong as some of their top ranking guards, but no matter how strong she was, she would still prove them wrong. She later had found a way to do this but as she had already known, it required the help of another person. Finally, thinking to herself why she hadn't thought of it before, she would ask her newly appointed guardian to help her with the task. '_He will be perfect!'_ She had thought to herself. She spent a few hours in her bedchamber wondering of the best way to approach the guard. She feared that upon being asked he would decline her request, telling her that she was being a silly little child, but was completely shocked and relieved when he kindly had agreed to help her learn.

She remembered that she spent countless nights sneaking out of the palace and into the gardens where no one could see or hear her and the guard train. She learned a great deal from him in almost record speed. Her eagerness to learn and her desire to rebel against her brothers and father is what had fueled her to master anything and everything he taught her and she was grateful to him for it.

A slight smile graced her lips remembering every encounter she had with the guard. Thanks to him she was able to hold her own now and protect herself… or so she had once again _thought _she could.

Ashe let out another short harsh sigh. "Who the hell am I kidding?!" she said quietly into the thick sewage air.

She started to feel the sting of the salty tears that began to well up into her royal blue eyes. She quickly and violently slammed the dagger's blade back into its hidden sheath with an auditable clack sound. Just as quickly as the tears began to well up, she forced them back causing them to never fall. She hated weakness. She hated being weak. She hated for anyone to see her weak or weakness within her. But worst of all she hated to see weakness in herself. Since her mother, father, all her brothers and Rasler's deaths, she had mentally bared herself from ever being weak and showing her weaknesses which meant she would never allow the tears to fall again. And so far she had at least stayed true to herself on that aspect, but the weakness part… she had failed herself miserably.

'_Really, who am I kidding? I can't even protect myself from a drunken solider let alone Vossler_.'

That simple fact had been proven brutally true to her that night.


	2. Chapter 2

_HEY!!! Guess what... guess what?! I updated!!!! whoo hooo! Ok... sorry I had WAY too much sugar this morning! X-D I just wanted to thank my **ONE** reviewer that took the time to drop me a line. I appreciate the support... I need it :-) To all the others that I know are reading but not reviewing... I'm glad that you are at least checking it out :-) (haha... I do the same thing sometimes XD)_

_Note: I hope I didn't make this part of the story too confusing... I know it was kind of hard to put it into words that would say what I was thinking. Any who... enough of me! Enjoy and please review! _

_landis icelilly_

_**Discl :** I, landis icelilly, do not own FFXII or Square Enix or anything else that might have connections to them._

_(rev: 9/5/07)_

* * *

Earlier that Evening… 

After about two hours of rigorous training, Ashe and some other soldiers from the Resistance group she was currently apart of, meandered their way back to their living quarters in the back corridor of Lowtown. She was looking forward to taking a long hot shower to ease up the soreness and tension that was developing in her back muscles from her earlier workout and training session

Even though she was the Princess of Dalmasca, the sole surviving heir to the royal throne, nobody in the Resistance fleet knew of her existence except Captain Vossler. All that the members knew was that she was just another soldier, ranked maybe a little higher than their own stature, but still wanted to contest the invasion of Archadian rule. For safety precautions, Ashe had to go under an alias and be treated just as one of the joined members. She was not treated any higher or different than any of the others.

Ashe continued to walk toward the heavy door that led to her room and bunk when she heard her alias name called from behind her.

"Amalia!"

She stopped as she reached for the handle on the door in front of her and slowly turned her head back to look at who had called for her. Her eyes rested on a tall and very muscular man with dark green eyes. He was at least six foot, from what she could tell, and had a head of short dark brown hair that when he ran his hand through it, stayed spiked up from the sweat. He was walking alongside three other men, all about the same size and height as him. The three men seemed to be talking amongst themselves about something secretive, occasionally glancing her way, which piqued her interest.

"Yes?" she asked as she racked her brain to try and remember the soldier's name. She never was very good at remembering names, just their faces.

She waited as he jogged up to where she currently stood and asked, " I am sorry to bother you but the guys and I were wondering if you would like to accompany us tonight?"

"Accompany you?" Amalia replied skeptically, unsure of the man's motive.

"Yes, we are celebrating one of our roommate's birthdays tonight and wondered if you wouldn't mind joining us."

"I see, and where will this event be taking place?"

"We are taking him to the Sandsea Tavern. Have you been there before?" The soldier asked.

"No, I cannot say that I have. Though I have heard of the place." She answered back thinking the offer over in her head.

Smiling now, the soldier quickly in return said, " That's good. Then we will meet you at the east entrance? In, say, about …" he mentally counted, " two hours?"

But before Amalia could counter, the soldier was already walking back toward his other comrades who stood waiting for him.

Taking a deep breath in defeat, she turned back to face the door and pulled it open allowing herself to walk into the long hall which would take her to her room.

* * *

About two hours later Amalia stood in front of her small mirror looking herself over and thinking whether she really could go through with this. It had been so long since she had attended any kind of social gathering. 

She was wearing her usual Resistance attire that consisted of a white corselet with a high neck collar and upper arm guards. She had removed the cincture that was designed to protect her abdomen, which left her nicely toned flat stomach bare to show off. Lastly she had on a very risqué red mini skirt that stopped high up on her upper thighs, which left little to the imagination. Usually she would wear her thigh and shin guards with the outfit but she chose not to fashion the guards tonight for she thought that they would be a little much just for a party. She would show off her long and slim legs for once.

Straightening her skirt for the sixth time she walked over to her bunk and sat down on top of it to slip on her calf-high black leather boots. Zipping up the sides of the boots she stood again to glance at herself one last time in the mirror, adjusting her shoulder length blonde hair.

" I guest this will do," she told herself trying to calm her nerves.

She quickly turned off the light crystal in her room and walked out letting the door click shut. Hesitantly, she walked down the barely lit up hall to the east entrance as she had been instructed to earlier.

Standing there next to the stairway that lead up into the city was the soldier that had invited her to his friends party. She finally remembered his name to be Vice, as for his three other friends, she had never met them before.

As Amalia walked closer to the group of men, she noticed the slightly dropped jaws and stunned looks that graced their faces and couldn't help but grin knowing that she caught their attention. She always liked to play that game with the soldiers during training. They would always think of her as a piece of ass more than they thought of her as a soldier of the Resistance and therefore would find themselves on the wrong side of her blade in combat training. She could always make their blood run a little faster in more ways than one and it thrilled her to have that control over a man.

" Sorry for my being late, I lost track of the time," Amalia said apologetically to the four gentlemen in front of her.

Quickly clearing their throats, Vice was the first to speak up.

" No need to apologize, you are actually right on time. We just arrived here only a moment before you Amalia," he said trying to maintain his composure.

" That's right," added the three others next to him a little to quickly.

Still smiling at their behavior, Amalia replied, " Oh, well that's good that I didn't keep you waiting long. Are we all ready to head to the Sandsea?"

" I think we all are," Vice answered with a nod of his head. He then quickly turned around and faced the stairs to keep his eyes from wondering any further than what they had already. The other three took that as the cue to stop gaping and began to follow their brown-headed friend up the stairway with Amalia closely behind them.

* * *

At the Sandsea Tavern… 

It had been about thirty minutes since they had arrived at the Sandsea Tavern. Vice and his friends were the first to be seen by all the guest that were occupying the tavern. A tall dark-haired man walked up to Vice and greeted him with a hand shake. The five men started a conversation and momentarily forgot that Amalia was standing behind them. Not being able to see whom the man was, Amalia was forced to wait patiently, staring at their backs, for them to move so that she may have a better look of the tavern and its inhabitants.

Finally Vice moved his conversation a little deeper into the bar area which gave Amalia the chance to really take in her surroundings. She was quite shocked at the large size of the building and the amount of people that were gathered there tonight. She hadn't expected to be around so many people that she barely knew which made her nervous, but she tried to shrug the feeling off. She saw that the tavern held many wooden tables and chairs on its first floor, for the general public to sit and enjoy their drinks while chatting with their fellow comrades, a merchant or the occasional tavern dame playing hard to get. This floor, she noted, also contained the rather large bar with several bartenders and waitresses scurrying around behind it trying to keep up with the demanding needs of the customers. In the back corner, across from the bar, she noticed a wooden staircase that lead to the upper floor of the tavern. Her eyes followed the stairway up to the second floor to see that it was quite crowded as well. Through the masses of bodies she could see that there were two or three pool tables spanning the floor and in the opposite back corner from the stairs was a miniature version of the bar from downstairs.

Amalia jumped suddenly when she felt someone touch her left arm, waking her from her reverie.

"Hey, Amalia?" Vice said to her as he touched her arm to get her attention, but looked concerned when he felt her jolt at his fingers' contact. " Amalia? Is there something wrong?"

She quickly looked at him and shook her head, " No, nothing is wrong. I was just taking in the site of this place. It is so big," she replied.

"Yes it is quite large in here. It's the biggest tavern that Rabanastre has to offer."

" I did not know of that."

Nodding his head he voiced to her, " We are heading up to the loft where the party is gathering, do you wish to join?"

"Yes, I will go after you," Amalia replied as she began to slowly walk behind the taller man.

As they reached the top of the second floor more members of the Resistance again greeted them. Amalia was beginning to realize that this was no small party like she had originally thought it to be. She was happily greeted by a few of the members that recognized her as she walked further into the loft.

"Amalia! So glad that you came tonight!" said a female member as she acknowledged her.

Not knowing exactly whom this woman was she simply smiled at her kindness and replied back, " Thank you for allowing me to attend."

"Oh, no problem at all. You are always welcome to any of our events. Sorry to rush off but help yourselves and enjoy the party!"

"Thank you," she said before the woman quickly turned and left to greet the new groups of people that kept consistently arriving in the loft.

While she continued to walk further into the loft, she turned to look at the groups of men and some women that were gathered around the pool tables. Some of the players' faces had looks of serious competition etched into them while others showed sheer amusement. She knew how to play this game very well, mostly learning it from her oldest brother who loved the sport. He was probably the greatest player that she knew of and he had been kind enough to share his winning secrets with her. She also knew that with this game there was always someone challenging another for high stakes of gil that could sometimes lead to trouble. She mentally told herself that she would have to steer clear of any of those situations tonight. She really didn't feel like having to deal with a liquored up sore loser that couldn't accept the fact that a lady, and a young one at that, took all his money from him fair and square.

Amalia mentally laughed at the thought and only let a small smirk grace her lips. She walked over to the railing that outlined the loft area and observed the commotion that continued on downstairs. A moment later she noticed that she wasn't alone. Without moving her head she glanced to her left to see that a tall and nicely toned man was standing next to her, looking out over the railing as well. Turning her head this time to get a better view, she saw that it was only Vice that stood beside her and she relaxed a little.

Sensing that he was being watch, Vice turned his head to see that Amalia had been looking at him and when he locked eyes with her, she quickly averted them back to the direction of the downstairs bar.

Smiling, he asked, " Amalia?"

Amalia tried hard to not let the heat that she felt rush up into her cheeks show, but when she turned to face him, she saw his smile grow a little bit bigger. She knew then that he had seen her blush. " Hmm?" she replied shyly.

"Would you like me to get you something to drink?" he motioned toward the bar.

"Umm well…"

Interrupting her he said, " Come on now, you didn't come here thinking that you weren't going to drink anything tonight did you?"

" Well I didn't really plan on consuming any kind of alcohol tonight, Vice," she stated feeling a bit nervous again. "And even if I were to drink, I don't know what would taste good and not make me sick."

Vice chuckled, seeing that she was a bit nervous, he stepped up closer to her and placed both of his hands on her upper arms to try and comfort her. This close contact caused her body to physically tense but she did nothing as she waited for the moment to pass and his hands to let go.

" Its alright, its just one drink. Trust me, it won't hurt you. I'll get you something that I know you will like, alright?"

She nodded her head and replied, " Alright."

He smiled as he let go of her upper arms and walked away to the bar to get their drinks.

Feeling relieved, Amalia turned herself around and leaned her back against the railing to face the pool table that was nearby her. Placing her hands, one on each side of her hips, on the railing, she watch the fierce competition that was taking place between two of the soldiers that were in her training squad. It seemed that the shorter blonde was taking all the shots and winning the match while the slightly taller and definitely more brawny man was forced to swallow his pride not so happily.

After a couple of minutes of watching the two spat venomous words towards each other, Amalia looked up to see Vice returning with their drinks in hand. Handing her the tall slender glass he said, " For you, my lady," in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Amalia took the glass from is hand ignoring his sarcasm and looked at it with curiosity. She lifted it level with her eyes to get a better look and concluded that it was some kind of an icy frozen concoction that she had never seen before.

She looked back at him questioningly, " And what, may I ask, do you call this that I am going to be drinking?"

" It's a frozen Bhujerban strawberry-rita. You've never had one of those?!" he said in disbelief.

" Umm, no I've never had one this flavor or frozen before. The only drink that I have had even remotely close to this would be those light alcoholic coolers they make." Amalia answered feeling slightly embarrassed for not being more knowledgeable about the subject.

"Try it! You will like it, I promise."

Taking another look at the frosty drink, she raised the glass up to her lips and took a small sip of the reddish liquid. To her surprise it tasted very sweet like the strawberries that were said it was made with. She raised the glass again but this time taking a larger sip from the glass.

"Well?" Vice asked waiting for her approval of his selection.

"Its very sweet and I can't taste the alcohol in it either. I like it." Amalia replied back continuing to consume her drink.

"Great! I'm glad you approve of my choice," he stated proudly giving Amalia a big smile. "Now lets say we have some fun, shall we?"

"Like what?" she said and while taking another sip of her drink, she looked up over the rim of the glass at him for an answer.


	3. Chapter 3

_Awwww... I'm gonna be nice and give you guys a two for one deal today! I already had these chapters typed out so I figured that today I would post not only chapter 2 but also chapter 3! But here is the deal though... can I pleeease ask that I get at least 5 more reviews? If you do I promise to update again :-D Thanks and hope you enjoy! _

_landis icelilly_

_**Discl:** Blah Blah Blah Blah... I own nothing except the little creations that go on in my head :-)_

_(rev: 9/5/07)_

* * *

Vice looked around at the crowded loft for a moment and noticed that one of the pool tables was not in use. He then quickly turned to Amalia, grabbing her free hand and pulled her over to the table. 

"How about we play this?" he said as he gestured toward the table, still grinning

She knew that this was going to happen. She really didn't want to play a game but only because she knew it could cause trouble. "Umm… well… I don't know Vice."

"Come now," he replied trying to convince her to a match. "One little game isn't going to do anything. Do you know how to play?"

"But-" he cut her off before she could finish.

"Its all right if you don't, I'll teach you, " he continued.

Becoming slightly agitated with him, she held up the glass to her mouth and threw back the remainder of its contents, finishing the drink off. She, almost slamming it, put the empty glass down on the table and turned to the wall and grabbed a pool stick from the holder.

Turning back to face Vice she looked at him straight in the eyes. He could see the fury growing in them and was startled by her reaction.

With a calm but challenging voice Amalia replied, "Yes, I do know how to play." She shoved the base of the pool stick into the floor and took a step closer to Vice, still staring him in the eyes. "No, I don't need you to teach me." She then slightly cocked her head to the right, "And yes, I will challenge you to a game but not before you, my dear friend, get me another one of those drinks." With an evil glare in her eyes now, she reached to the table and grabbed the empty glass thrusting it into the man's hand, not once breaking eye contact with him.

Quite shocked at her attitude, Vice took the glass from her and gave her an uneasy smirk. "Another Bhujerban rita coming up. I'll be right back." He quickly turned and headed toward the bar for refills not wanting to find out the fury she would unleash if he had said no.

Amalia watched him disappear into the crowd quickly and then started laughing to herself, shaking her head slowly. She turned to the pool table, gathered all the pool balls and prepared them for the first break to start the game. After that was done she looked in the direction of the bar trying to see if Vice was on his way back but she couldn't see him for the large horde that hung around the bar counter. Sighing, she leaned against the edge of the table, crossed her ankles while still holding her pool stick and waited for the soldier to come back. She continued to stare into the crowd until she finally caught sight of his face and saw that he was talking to his three friends that had came with them and the dark-haired man that had greeted them at the door. She hadn't been able to get a look at his face when they had came into the tavern earlier, but now she could at least see a glimpse of the masculine face though she still couldn't make out his features. She felt a sense of déjà vu and tried to rack her brain to remember where she had seen that man before. As she watched she saw Vice say something to the four men and then they only nodded their heads back in return. Then they went their separate ways and Vice quickly walked back to the table where he had left Amalia earlier.

He saw her leaning against the table with her legs crossed at the ankles and pool stick in hand. He couldn't help but to let his eyes scan over her gorgeous figure, wondering if it was just as seducing without the clothing as it was with it. She had that same fire burning in her eyes still and had an evil smirk adorning her face when he came to focus on it. He noticed how her flaxen hair, just barely shoulder length, was parted slightly to the side and was layered just right so that each strand gently encompassed her petite, but nicely toned, jaw line and neck. When he looked back up to her eyes, she caught his gaze and held it for a few seconds longer than should have been. She gave him a look as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar but let her lips curve back into a very seductive grin. Vice knew he had been condemned by her and he quickly glanced away to look at the wall, the floor, the pool table behind her, the man next to him, anything so that he wouldn't look at her and let her see his embarrassment written on his face.

'_Why, of all the women in Ivalice, does she have to be my superior?! If only she wasn't then I could… We could… Wait why am I thinking like this?'_

Vice shook his head and mentally berated himself for thinking of her in that manner. He knew better. Finally, when he knew he had made it obvious to her that he was trying to avoid her seeing his indiscretion, he gave up and looked down to his mug full of golden ale in one hand and to the frozen pink alcoholic slush he held in the other. He wasn't usually like this and came to the conclusion that it was the ale he was consuming that made his mind go into the gutters. When he reached the place where she was standing he finally looked back up and smiled at her to break the awkwardness of her scrutiny as he handed Ashe her refilled glass and she immediately took a big gulp of the frozen slush looking away only momentarily.

"Wow, I wasn't gone that long!" he claimed as he watched her take the rather large gulp and then set the glass aside.

Amalia gave him a sly grin at his remark and replied back in a sarcastic tone, "Ha, very funny. Now are you ready to 'teach me' to play?"

"But I thought—" she quickly cut him off.

"I am joking with you! Now lets play. You can break first," she said as she gestured toward the readied table.

"Alright then," Vice replied as he sat his mug of ale next to where Amalia's drink sat and grabbed a pool stick out of the holder on the back wall. He then picked up the cube of blue chalk, applied it to the tips of both their sticks and set it back down into the tray it had came from.

'_Hmm, she is acting pretty sure of herself. I will have to raise the stakes when I see what she has hidden up that red little skirt of hers… Damn it! Here I go again, (sigh) this is going to be a long night.' _He thought to himself as he examined her body… language and attitude to determine whether she was bluffing him or not.

"We will see just how well you do against me," Vice said giving her a bit of a ruse of his own.

He walked around the table to position himself so that he got the best angle to break the triangle of balls apart, hoping to pocket at least one of them. But just as he past by Amalia, he heard her let out a low and cocky chuckle which let him know that she caught his bluff and was calling him on it.

* * *

Five Games and Five Drinks Each Later… 

As Amalia made the final strike and the black eight ball propelled into the corner pocket, she looked up victoriously at Vice and his three buddies who had appear around the table sometime at the start of their last game. Looking rather unsettled at the fact that he had been beaten at his own game five times in a row by a woman and even worse, all his friends had watched him in his humiliation.

"That makes it five to… zero! It doesn't look like you are doing very well against _me_ now does it?" Amalia triumphantly stated as she walked to where Vice and his friends stood at the other end of the table. She saw the look of his ego being crushed right before her and she loved every minute of it. She stopped directly in front of Vice with only but an inch or two between them and gave him another one of her malicious smiles.

With her so close to his body, he was unable to think and therefore all he could do was stare back at her with awe. He knew that he had drank one mug of ale too many and too fast because all the thoughts that ran through his head at that moment were of the sexually inclined and was making him dizzy.

"Care to challenge me to another?" she asked tilting her head to the side innocently, not realizing she was so close to him or the effect she was putting on him.

"I don't think so Amalia, I'm going to sit down for a bit," he replied as he set the pool stick down on the table and began to head toward an empty table trying to maintain his composure.

Disappointment showed on her face as she followed him to the bar table and tried to plead with him, " I'm sorry Vice, I didn't mean to be arrogant. I just was enjoying winning that's all. I'll let you win this one, please. I promise." She gave him an innocent three-year-old smile and batted her eyelashes at him.

Vice let out an amused sigh and replied, " Don't be sorry, I'm not mad at all. I was just starting to feel dizzy from all the ale I have been drinking and needed to take a break. I'll take you up on your offer in a bit when I feel a bit better."

"Oh," she felt a little bit cynical but shrugged it off. "I'm going to get another one of those drinks, want anything?" she asked the four men around her.

"No thanks, I'm done for a little bit," Vice answered.

"Can you handle getting three more mugs of ale?" one of the friends piped up.

Nodding her head, she replied giving a seductive smile but not knowing that she had, " Not a problem, be right back." And walked toward the bar, disappearing into the massive crowd that had grown around the bar and was overtaking the upper floor.

When she finally reached the bar top, she gave the rather young looking bartender her order and stood to the side as she waited for it to be prepared. Looking down to the first floor she noted that it was almost bare of people and the tables and chairs. She saw that they had cleared the floor and was making room so that some musicians could set up their instruments. Quite intrigued, she continued to watch the employees of the tavern set up and was startled when the bartender threw down the mugs and then her glass with a loud 'thud' sound, onto the bar top.

Looking quite agitated, she picked up her glass in one hand and in the other she grabbed the handles of the three mugs. Then while she started to walk away, she looked back to the bartender, " How rude," she muttered more to herself than to the bartender.

She pushed her way through the crowded loft being shoved this way and that trying to get back to the table where she had left Vice and his friends at. Upon getting closer she could barely make out their conversation but already knew what his friends were teasing him about. She smiled to herself and actually concluded that she was having a great time. She thought about how this was the first time, ever really, that she had actually enjoyed a social event.

Amalia walked up to the table of four men and set their drinks down on the wooden table top, causing them to halt their conversation and she raised an eyebrow in question. All of them just ignored the awkward moment and took their designated mugs. They thanked her quickly and began to gulp down the liquid so as to avoid answering any questions about their conversation. Amalia knowing full well what the topic of their exchange had been and wasn't going to let them off the hook so easily. But just as she was beginning to open her mouth to speak, a very familiar strong and deep voice interrupted her from behind.

"Hey now, it looks like you have seen one too many drinks my friends. You know, the four of you are the biggest bunch of fairies that I know," laughed the masculine voice. "And who, may I ask, is this beautiful young lady that you have somehow managed to find?" he said as he noticed the young female that stood at the table with her backside facing him, which he promptly began to look her over.

'_I know that voice.' _Amalia thought to herself as she quickly closed her mouth and her eyes had gone wide with a slight bit of fear and shock that shown in them. If it was who she thought it to be then… well she really didn't want to find out the result. She slowly closed her eyes and took deep breaths to still her nerves and calm herself for the confrontation that was surely to happen.

Vice looked up to Amalia's face slightly embarrassed at his friend's outward ness and saw the shocked look that had graced her features.

Raising a brow in confusion to her reaction, he turned to the new comer giving him a cocky smirk and replied, " Well now I'm sorry Capitan to disappoint you but I'm merely taking a break from my ale intake. But those three on the other hand," pointing his thumb in the direction of his three friends on the other side of the table that were trying to 'woo' the women when one of them fell out of his chair, " are about as fairy as you can get. That is only their second round and they are almost smashed!"

"We are not… (hiccup)… smashed!" the one retorted from the floor as he grabbed the chair and his friends arm next to him. He tried to pull himself back up on to the chair and instead brought his buddy and the chair tumbling back to the floor with him.

Vice rolled his eyes and shook his head at the two men on the floor and the other still sitting in his chair, laughing hysterically.

" Now that is just plain sad. And I let them in as soldiers? I must be slipping." The man replied back.

Vice glanced back at Amalia and saw that she had her eyes closed and looked a bit paler than before. He wondered why she was acting that way so suddenly and tried to grab her hand to comfort her when the Captain asked him again, " So are you going to introduce me to this beautiful young lady here?"

Retracting his hand he quickly stood up next to Amalia and answered, " Forgive me, Capitan Azales. This is Amalia."

Amalia felt her heart rate increase and the blood in her body burn as the alcohol in her system intensified the effect. Slowly she turned her body to face the Capitan with an arrogant but knowing smile adorning her lips and found his face to be paling from shock. She knew that she wasn't suppose to be gallivanting outside of the hideout or with any of the other members after sunset because of the risk that someone would recognize her and bring her harm. Ashe just knew that when she got back to her room tonight, she was going to get the lecture of a lifetime. Just by looking at him, she knew that she had caused his blood to boil and he didn't look pleased at all.

"Hello, Capitan Azelas," Amalia replied calmly.

"Hello, Amalia. Can I have a word with you… in private." He said coolly through gritted teeth as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her through the crowd to a side hallway that was unoccupied.

* * *

By now his two friends on the floor had finally returned upright at the table and all three had stopped laughing and was looking between Vice and the two that were quickly disappearing into an empty corridor of the loft. When they looked to Vice they asked confused, " What just happened?" 

"I'm just as clueless as you," he replied equally confused.

"Do they know each other?"

The taller of the friends took his left hand and slapped him up the backside of his head at the stupid question and answered, " Gee, what ever made you think that genius!"

Vice laughed at the exchange and then turned his head toward the archway that Captain Azelas had taken Amalia to. He barely could see them in the dim lighting but was able to make out a not so happy Captain and a very arrogant Amalia in a heated argument.


	4. Chapter 4

_Whoo hoo... another update! But just to give you a warning the updates MIGHT be a bit few for a couple of weeks. I will try hard to post them asap :-) Umm... I don't know what else there is to tell ya. Thanks to my faithful reviewer! I am working on the part where Bacsh comes into the picture but he will be M I A for the time being. I'm working with the game's storyline so as of right now... he is hanging out in a bird cage. But I can't wait until I get to where I can bring him in. XD Any who... read, review... enjoy! Oh... and thanks to my first reader that put my story on an alert! It makes me feel special :-)_

_landis icelilly_

_**Discl:** I've said it once, I've said it twice... and possible a third and now a fourth... I'm to broke to own anything! That includes FFXII and Square Enix... just think if I did... XD nah!_

_(rev: 9/6/07)_

* * *

When they were out of ear shot and deep enough into the hallway, Captain Azelas tightened his grip around her wrist and slung her body around to the front so that she was facing him but his pull was a bit too forceful and caused her back to hit the stone wall with a painful cracking noise. Amalia inhaled sharply at the pain that shocked her spine from the impact and became irritated at her guardian's behavior. 

"Ow, what in Ivalice was that for?! I am not a damn rag doll that you can throw around, Captain!" she spat at him taking up her royal demeanor. Quickly she yanked her wrist out of his grasp and rubbed it with her other hand, looking at the redness that surely would be a bruise come morning.

"Forgive me for not heeding formalities but what are you doing here?!" He looked at her expectantly for an answer and ignored the malice look she was giving him for his earlier assault on her.

"If you must know, I was invited," she replied angrily.

"By who?"

Sighing with frustration she turned to walk away and replied to his inquiry, " I do not have time for this Capta—" he halted her by slamming his hand furiously against the stone wall behind her, stopping her in her tracks and preventing her from leaving.

"Who Amalia?" he said to her in a low but cool voice.

She looked back at him, staring at him straight in the eyes with a fierce gaze and retorted plainly, " Vice."

Hearing his sigh of displeasing frustration, she questioned him.

"What is so wrong with that, Capt—" he cut her off once again.

"How many times must I tell you to call me Vossler?" he sighed and began to warn her of her accompaniment, " And the problem that I have with Vice and his lackeys is that they are not of the type to be very trust worthy, especially when they are intoxicated."

Amalia listened to him but chose to ignore his warnings figuring that he was telling her this just so that she would get upset and leave the tavern letting him escort her back to the hideout. She couldn't believe that Vice was like the person that Vossler had described to her. Not once tonight had Vice done anything that would imply he had intended to bring her harm or endanger her. Vossler knew that Amalia could be very stubborn at times and this was going to be one of them. With his hand still pushed against the wall and his arm blocking her way to leave, he sighed and forcefully said to her trying to make it sink in, " We agreed on this Amalia! This is for _your_ safety! What would become of Dalmasca if you are to be caused harm and I'm not able to save y--"

His words only fueled the fire that was burning inside of her and she cut him off.

"I am not a helpless child! I can manage for myself!" she took her right elbow and jabbed it right into his triceps causing his upper arm to spasm in pain forcing him to lower his arm to his side. As he brought his hand up to message the pain away, he opened his mouth to let out a curse or two but quickly closed it, thinking better of it, to prevent any more trouble from starting than what had already been started.

Amalia walked away but before she reached the archway of the hall she turned her head back to Vossler and with a mischievous smile said, "You don't need to protect me tonight, I can handle my own. Oh, and Vossler… you could use a few drinks to ease up your blood pressure. I worry that you will give yourself a heart attack if you keep this up."

He gave her a peeved look in return and then she turned away disappearing into the crowd.

Still messaging the arm that she had taken some aggression out on only moments ago, he mentally kicked himself for letting her take control of the situation. He looked down the hall in the direction of where Amalia had just left and saw that the people were slowly beginning to thin out to the lower level for the late night live music and dancing that they offered on special nights. Thinking her words over, he ran his hand through his somewhat short and messy dark brown hair and let out a heavy sigh.

"Maybe she is right, I _do_ need a few more drinks," he said aloud to himself.

With that he slowly walked in the same direction as Amalia had only a moment ago toward the slightly less crowded bar.

* * *

It had only been about ten minutes since Captain Vossler and Amalia's exchange before Vice noticed her walking confidently by herself out of the darkness of the corridor. Still puzzled by what had unfolded between the two earlier, he moved up out of his chair he had been occupying and headed in her direction to question her. 

Amalia caught a sideways glimpse of someone walking straight for her and she turned her head to see Vice approaching her with a look of questionable concern. She knew he was going to ask her about her and Vossler's meeting and had to think of some excuse fast. When he finally reached her, she could see his expression was of true concern and let out a sharp sigh thinking back to what Vossler had told her about him, not seeing Vice show an ounce of it presently.

"Amalia, is everything alright?" he asked.

She shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile.

"What did Captain Azelas want?" Vice questioned knowing he was stepping over his bounds.

"Nothing really," she replied airily.

"That didn't look like nothing Amalia," he said in a stronger voice.

Laughing she replied," Really, it was nothing Vice. We just have an old score to settle that's all." She then quickly started to walk away from him to prevent any further scrutiny, but stopped and turned around to ask him if he wanted anything from the bar.

Feeling better and slightly refreshed from his brief rest, he took up on her offer and ordered another mug of ale but this time he asked for the house brew which was almost the same Dalmascan ale but had a few added ingredients that made it have a bit stronger flavor and more of an intoxicant than the other.

Amalia nodded her head in acknowledgement and then bounded in the direction of the bar in the corner once again.

While Vice waited for Amalia and his drink order to come back he caught a glimpse of the Captain as he walked out of the dark corridor that Amalia and him had previously had their argument in. Vice had noticed that the Captain was rubbing the upper portion of his left arm and was headed toward the stairway that led down to the now slightly crowded lower level of the tavern.

With curiosity, Vice followed the man a few paces behind, down the stairs and towards the substantially sized bar that occupied a big section of the lower level. Finally the Captain reached the bar top and before Vice could react he called over his shoulder, "What can I help you with soldier?" Vice jumped slightly at having been caught in his stalking and his muscles tensed up in anticipation for a verbal reprimand from him. He stared at his back and remained unmoved, Vice mentally batted back and forth his decision of whether to answer the man's question or to just say nothing at all and walk away. But before he could choose, the Captain turned completely around to look Vice in the eye and said, more as an order than a simple question, " Please, accompany me at the bar top."

"Yes sir," Vice replied back and quickly took up the bar stool that sat adjacent to him.

"What can I help you with Vice?" Vossler repeated his earlier question but voiced his name instead this time with a flat tone.

He thought of what he was doing there and why he had followed the Captain in the first place. He had barely heard a word of what he had been asked and in turn had answered back, "Hmm… uh.. well…"

"Is it about Amalia?" Vossler asked slowly. But before Vice could give a reply the bartender finally came to stand in front of the two men.

"What can I get for ya two soldiers tonight? We have some of the finest Dalmascan brews and spirits in Ivalice if ya care to try," stated the older burly and slightly grungy bartender on the other side of the wooden counter.

"Something strong," Vossler replied with a hint of distress in his voice.

"Well sir some of our spirits have quite the kick in a shot. What kind would ya have?"

"Doesn't matter, I'll take the strongest you have. Oh, and give a shot to my buddy next to me one too."

He watched the bartender scurry off to the back room storage cellar to find the drink that probably would be his fate tonight but he didn't care about that very much at the moment. Remembering that Vice still needed to answer his question he turned in his direction and implied once more, " It is isn't it?"

"Yes sir, it is," he answered not sure of how to continue.

Vossler nodded his head and with a sigh said, " I see, well it is of no great importance, so it would do you well to ease it from your mind."

"But how do you know her Captain Azelas?" Vice pushed on and chose not to heed his words.

He let out a defeated sigh," You can call me Vossler for tonight."

"Ok, Vossler, but how do you know Amalia?"

He thought for a minute to figure a way to word his statement without giving up any true information of her identity. " We both used to work in the palace for the King. She was a messenger of sorts for the King and Queen and because I was one of the Captains of the Dalmascan Order of Knights, I was constantly assigned to be her guardian when she would be sent to deliver confidential documents to the neighboring countries."

"But why the unhappy reunion? Amalia told me that you two had an old score to settle. What is that about?" Vice pushed further.

Vossler raised an eyebrow up in suspicion and questioned, "Oh so you've talked to her about the situation?"

"Well not really. When she came back I asked her if everything was alright and what had happened. My only reply that she gave me was that it was nothing really and that you two just had an old score to settle. That was all." Vice replied cautiously as he was unable to read the expression on Vossler's face at the moment. He nervously scratched the back of his head and awaited the storm that was surely brewing inside of the man at such talk of a sore topic.

"That was all huh?"

"Yes sir, nothing more."

"Surprising. She usually likes to run her mouth about everything when she is mad. I guess in the few years away from the castle has changed her for the better I hope."

"I guess so."

Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by a loud '_thud_' sound on the counter top that caused both men to jump and quickly turned their heads in the direction of the offending noise.

"Here ya go gents! The strongest spirits in the tavern. Took me awhile to find it though since no one really orders the stuff. Most of the men in here can't stomach it, I must say," the bartender said as he had placed the bottle that contained the liquor down and then reached under the counter ledge only to return a couple seconds later with two shot glasses. He took the towel that was haphazardly strung to his belt and wiped out any particles of dirt that had happened to be in them and set them back onto the bar top. Then he picked up the bottle of spirits and poured the liquid into each glass with an experienced finesse The man set the bottle back down and then pushed the shot glasses toward the two men sitting there.

"Here ya goes. Drink up! I'll just leave the rest of the bottle here for ya not that I expect ya two to finish it. Good luck to ya both!" stated the bartender as he left to help the next customer that waited.

Vice picked up the tiny glass full of the foggy white liquid and held it up at eye level.

"Is this even safe to drink?" Vice questioned.

Vossler glanced at his own shot glass and then reached out to pick up the bottle that the bartender had left behind for them. "Well I would think so since they sell it in a public establishment." He examined the label on the back of the icy blue colored bottle and found what he was looking for. "Hmm, Ixion Revenge. Never heard of the stuff. Must be an exotic vintage import of some kind."

"Ixion Revenge?" Vice questioned as he slowly placed his shot glass back onto the bar top and looked over at the bottle that Vossler was deciphering the label on. "What's it made with? Acid and arsenic?"

Chuckling at his comment, Vossler replied, "No even though I thought that at first myself. It looks like it originates from the Ridorana Cataract in the Pharos region. It says that it was derived from the poisonous venom of the Mistmares and contains the last remnants of an elite beast known as Ixion."

He returned the light blue bottle back onto the bar top and moved his hand to grasp around the small shot glass again. He raised it up to his eye level and watched for a second the mild swirling of the strange thick hazy liquid.

"Here goes nothing, cheers," he relayed as he put the glass to his lips and quickly threw back his head to take down the shot of exotic flux.

Hastily Vossler slammed the glass back down and closed his eyes tightly at the stinging and burning sensation that was accompanying the elixir down his throat. Vice looked onward at his Captain's display and concernedly questioned, "Are you alright?"

The fierce sensations that occupied his mouth and throat dissipated just as quickly as they had started and Vossler was renewed with a slight sense of calm.

"I'm quite alright Vice. Now I do believe that it's your turn to try," he answered in an urging tone.

"I don't… think that…. I really should…" Vice replied uncertainly but was stopped short.

"You mean you are turning down a Captain's offered drink?! I thought I trained you better than that solider," he sternly stated back

"No that's not what I was implying sir… I was… its just… Ahh, hell! Here goes nothing," Vice gave up and quickly hammered back the liquid and repeated the actions of his Captain all the same.

"Wha… the…?!" He tried to ask but couldn't from the inferno that raged inside his throat. Vossler just laughed at his attempt and poured them each another round, sliding Vice's glass toward him only to see the man's eyes gone wide with shock.

"You heard the bartender, he said that we couldn't finish off this bottle by ourselves. I frankly would like to prove him wrong so drink up. Unless you are like your fairy friends and can't handle the strong stuff," he taunted.

Not wanting to be classified the same as his amateur buddies, Vice hurriedly grabbed the refilled shot glass that had been placed in front of him and downed it contents hungrily.

* * *

Meanwhile… 

Somewhat frustrated, Amalia finally emerged from the still slightly crowded upper bar area with her requested drinks in hand. She hated how the bartender had treated her by consistently ignoring her until no other that stood at the bar had an order to give him and so was forced to take her drink order. In total she had waited about ten minutes. And within those ten minutes that she stood at the bar top, she had counted out of pure irritated boredom, the amount of times that she felt a hand cup or grab her ass, which consisted of about twenty times give or take a few for 'double dipping'.

"Damn this skirt," she muttered as she walked back to the stairway that she had last talked to Vice at realizing that he was no longer there. Confused, she scanned what was left of the people on the entire upper floor to not even find a small glimpse of him anywhere.

Becoming even more annoyed she took a mental break and decided to enjoy her fresh glass of strawberry-rita, downing about half of its cold contents in the process. Feeling slightly more refreshed she decided to continue her search for Vice on the now very crowded and becoming louder by the second, lower level. As she descended the stairway she noticed that there was now a band of musicians playing a salsa type style of music, which emitted an infectious beat that was threatening to take over her body. She loved to dance whenever she had the chance to do so freely. It was never allowed to samba, salsa, cha-cha or for that matter any kind of dance other than Dalmasca's and other nations' national promenade at the royal balls her family attended. She had learned the salsa and such other dances by looking out her balcony on some nights and watching some of the street urchins perform these dances beautifully in hopes of receiving some gil to get them by.

Slightly moving her hips to the beat, she continued her search and finally rested her eyes on two figures at the bar that she recognized, fraternizing to each other as they clanked together what looked like mini glasses filled with a fuzzy white liquid and then they quickly threw back their heads and downed the strange elixir only to then refill the small glasses again. As she got closer to them she happened to notice that the lightly blue colored bottle was just about under the halfway point so she came to the conclusion that the two had probably been there since she left Vice to get their drinks. She became mildly livid at the thought and as she approached the two she retorted, " I see how you are! Send me off on a wild goose chase while you are in turn having a grand old time without me!"

Vice and Vossler turned in unison to face the slightly agitated woman that had appeared behind them, but before any of them could speak, Amalia continued, "Oh, and I am glad to see that you actually took my advice for once," noticing that it was Vossler that was engaged in drinking the shots and not one of Vice's imps that he called '_friends_'.

Looking confused, Vice sloppily drank down the newly poured shot and replaced it on the bar while Vossler laughed at his pour excuse of finesse.

"I guess I did take your advice," Vossler replied smugly as he gulped down his glass.

She set the mug of ale down in front of Vice and quickly drank down the remainder of her glass and placed it along side his and replied back in a warning tone, "Don't toy with me Vossler!"

Vossler laughed even harder as he looked over at Vice to witness his priceless reaction to Amalia's threat as the expression of fear was etched across his face.

"I think you scared him Amalia."

"Damn it Vossler!"

"Alright, settle down," he let out an amused sigh, "Yes, I took your advice and you were…right. I did need a few drinks and I feel much more relaxed now. So, I thank you."

With a triumphant grin she replied," You're welcome. That will be 295 gil please."

"295 gil? Hey now that's robbery! No woman's advice is worth that much!" Vossler complained in a joking fashion.

"Well I might cut you a deal since you're a _'friend of the family'_ kind of thing. Free of charge if you will escort me out onto the floor and dance with me," she compromised innocently to the man.

Suddenly Vossler realized that there was music playing in the background and people had started dancing in flow with the moderately fast tempo of the music. He cringed slightly as he remembered being dragged onto the training grounds in the middle of the night sometimes where no one could see or hear them as she used him as a dummy partner to practice the dances she had learned watching the street urchins. In turn though, he had actually had fun and at the same time learned a thing or two at how to execute the dance almost as flawlessly as she could.

"Well? What do you say?" she inquired, as he seemingly was lost in thought.

He hesitated, then quickly turned and poured a fresh helping into the shot glass and returned to his prior position facing her holding the glass out for her to take. She looked at the glass in his hand and then back at him and asked questionably, "What am I suppose to do with that?"

"Drink it," he replied flatly.

"For what purpose?"

"To make your offering a bit more… fair," he answered innocently knowing that she would challenge him.

"Make it more fair?! How is that making it more fair?"

"You take the shot, I'll dance with you," he grinned as he knew almost exactly what she was going to do.

"It doesn't work like that Vossler."

"Why is that Amalia? Are you to much of a weakling to handle it?" he still grinned as he saw the flash of fury that crept up into her eyes.

'_My how the tables have turned,'_ he thought to himself as he watched her fume, which added to his amusement.

"Damn it Vossler," she huffed as she forcefully yanked the tiny glass of liquid out of his grasp and with out a second glance she tilted her head back and at the same time let the hazy flux flow down the back of her throat. Even though the concoction burned the inside of her mouth momentarily she didn't even flinch as she slammed the glass back onto the bar top and stared Vossler dead in the eyes. "Do you want me to show you that again? Just in case you didn't see that the first time," she pushed knowing he would do it just to see if it all blew up in her face.

He turned slightly and said, "Vice could you pour the lady another round, please."

Vice obeyed and refilled the glass to the brim and handed it back to Amalia where she hastily accepted it and repeated the previous act once more. She then looked back to Vossler but this time she was a bit calmer than before.

"I think you owe me a dance now," she said with a relaxed tone and smiled genuinely at him.

Not fully satisfied that she could actually handle the strongest spirits in the tavern, Vice poured another shot full and held it out to her and said, "I don't believe that you can just shrug this stuff off like its nothing but water! I'll admit that after six rounds of the stuff on top of whatever else I've had to drink is already too much for me. And it definitely would knock out any woman twice your size. So… I want to see you down this one unfazed and then I will be officially amazed."

Amalia gave Vice an annoyed look but accepted his challenge by taking the shot out of his fingers.

'_What damage could just one more shot do?'_ she thought to herself as she raised the glass up in cheers to Vice and once again downed the funny liquid with no trouble at all. "There happy?" she questioned as she handed Vice the empty glass. Her only reply she got from him was, "Impressive."

"I take that as a yes. Good, now back to business," she stated as she turned toward Vossler but to only find that his seat was now empty and he stood directly in front of her merely inches from her body. He held out his hand to her and asked, "May I have this dance, m'lady?"

Amalia felt the heat that crept up into her cheeks as she slowly placed her petite hand into the slightly larger and stronger one of Vossler's, which in turn, gently clasped around hers and he guided her out into the mass of others that were dancing in rhythm to the music leaving Vice alone at the bar.

As the two walked away, Vice felt a pang of jealousy run through him as he saw Vossler steal away his opportunity that he had been working at all night, to be with Amalia. He then mentally shrugged off the notion and returned himself to the counter top to pour himself another shot of the liquor that he had quickly became immune to the after effects of.

* * *

_Well... what do ya think? I'm tryin! Please drop me a review! XD_


	5. Chapter 5

_Ok, so I'm going to update anyways :-) This chapter was kind of hard to write so I'm sorry if it is a bit confusing... I tried! I will do my best to post the next chapter asap so you don't have to wait too long for it... I always hated to wait for anything :-P Last but not least... thanks to my reviewer for the support once again! Enough of me...enjoy!_

_landis icelilly_

_**Discl: **Read discl. from previous chapters._

* * *

Amalia allowed Vossler to continue pulling her out onto the crowded floor until he found a decent clearing for them. Once he found a spot, he stopped and continued to pull her forward as her body whipped around into reference in front of him. He smiled at her as he positioned himself and placed his hands in their correct placements, one hand in hers and the other one on her hip. She returned his smile with an even greater one; she saw that he had remembered their late night training escapades when she was seventeen and duplicated his previous action by placing herself in the proper stance.

A new melody sounded from the musicians and Vossler took the initiative and began to move her in exact rhythm with the fast beat. Amalia knew the dance well and fell into perfect step alongside Vossler's movements. Slightly shocked at his recollection of the dance, she questioned him, "I didn't think that you had remembered. Have you been practicing?"

Vossler let out a small laugh and replied," No sadly… I don't have anyone to practice with now. Plus how could I ever forget the countless nights that you would come down and barge into my chambers demanding that I come and be your dancing puppet for the next three hours."

"Hey, I never _barged_ into your chambers! I was just saving you the trouble of having to answer the door," Amalia grinned innocently at him.

"Oh, so that's your excuse."

"No, my excuse was that you were the only one that would put up with me and my silly spur of the moments," she stated back as they continued to move in complete unison, executing the dance flawlessly.

They reached the part in the dance steps that required Vossler to hold her hand up above her head while she twirled and then take it back down to cause her to spin outward and then inward as she curled into his arm which pulled her tightly into his body with her backside against him. He tilted his head down near her ear as if to whisper something to her.

"I never minded _putting up_ with you as you'd call it, I rather enjoyed the change in routine," he assured her in a hushed tone, as he continued to lower his lips closer to her ear.

"You were just an added bonus," he added as his breath tickled her ear and sent a shiver up her spine. His actions had caught her off guard and made her wonder as to why he was acting in such a manner towards her. As a matter of fact, she didn't even know why she herself, had reacted in such a way. She mentally then concluded that it was probably due to the massive quantities of alcohol and liquor that they both had been supplying themselves throughout the evening. She then suddenly remembered the next piece to the dance as the muscians played on and decided to give him a little rouse of her own to get him back for his current tease.

_'Two can play at this game!'_ she thought to herself as a smirk adorned her facial features. 

"Is that how you saw it?" she questioned as she moved back into position with her back pressed against his front side in preparation for her next move.

Meanwhile all the dancing couples that had been previously around them had slowly moved off onto either side of the floor to give the two dancers their needed space to execute their, unknown to them, performance that they were displaying. Everyone had stood and watched in awe at how fluid and synchronized their movements were with each other as they never missed a beat.

By now Vice had been rejoined by his three extremely inebriated friends at the bar and they had all been viewing the display that was playing out in front of them. He had noticed how his own Captain had been inching Amalia in to him closer and closer as the dance continued on until finally they reached the part in the dance where she had her backside pressed up against his torso. Vice had also caught the small gesture that Vossler had made when he was holding her up close to him after their series of spins that consisted within the dance. Anger started to rise up into his blood as the many ounces of ale and liquor only gave fuel to what was sure to come later if the two should ever meet again tonight.

"Hey Vice, isn't that Captain Azelas with Amalia out there?" one of his friends questioned as they looked out onto the floor.

Gripping the shot glass tighter, Vice answered," Yes, why you want to know?"

"Well wasn't it supposed to be the plan that you get the girl? Not him?"

But just before Vice could answer, Vossler looked up and as he made eye contact with him, he gave Vice a cocky grin in an effort to discourage him from trying any future moves on Amalia.

"That was how the plan _was_ supposed to work, but it don't seem like that now, does it?" Vice shot back through gritted teeth. He continued to watch the two intermingle as they suddenly came upon a new part of the dance. With her back still tightly pressed to Vossler's front, she placed a hand on each of his upper thighs and seductively slid herself down his abdomen and pelvic areas with a slight swaying motion, making sure that when she came back up, it was as agonizingly slow as possible. As she came back up, she slid one of her hands higher up his thigh to lightly graze by his sudden tightness in his pants, which caused a barely sharp and audible inhale to escape Vossler's mouth.

_'Damn her... what was that for?!' he thought as he quickly tried to recompose himself before she noticed his slight faulter._

She then returned to her stance prior with an evil smirk adorning her lips and they then began the final phase to end the quite saucy dance that they had displayed.

Vice, once again, caught Vossler staring straight at him but only this time he wore an unreadable expression and that same arrogant smirk he had worn earlier. Finally, something snapped inside of Vice and his rage began to flow free through his body. He turned fully around to face the bar and grabbed the bottle that they had been emptying; now only a fourth of its contents remained, and poured himself another shot. His three friends sat there in curiosity and observed him as he quickly gulped down the liquid and continued this for three more glassfuls until the bottle of spirits was completely consumed. Almost slamming the shot glass onto the bar top he turned back around as he heard the music start to draw to a close and caught sight of Amalia and Vossler as they brought the performance to a close. The final measure was carried out by Amalia being spun into Vossler's embrace which caused them to have there noses barely an inch apart from each other and then he leaned her backwards over his arm that held her securely at the waist. As he had continued this action, his lips had ever so lightly skimmed down her lips to her chin and then down to the lower region of her neck where they finally stopped and she could feel the hot sensation on her skin as he breathed her in.

After witnessing his Captain practically pawing all over the woman that in the beginning he had had his eyes set on, Vice quickly stood up from the bar stool and felt the sudden rush that surged through his entire body from his anger and the alcohol that was catching up to him. Turning to his buddies he had a sudden idea that entered his head that could possibly bring or, more likely, force Amalia back to him.

"Hey you guys, I've got an idea that I want to try. I'm going to need you three to help me though," Vice started knowing that his plan that he was going to try and play out was a bit insane and most likely would cause some trouble. But he didn't really care, all he knew was that he was out for revenge now, which was brought on by the sight of her with Vossler and the extreme amounts of alcohol that was coursing through his veins right now.

"Sure Vice, what you got in mind?"

"Well I'm going to need one of you to act like you don't know where I am and somehow convince her that I might be out in the back alleyway sick or something to that matter. Then suggest to her that maybe she should go and check on me to see if I'm alright or not. Then I will take it over from there… alright?"

"Alright," they replied at the same time.

"Got it?"

The three of them all shook their head and answered, "Got it!"

"Great, I'll be out back then. Later," Vice said as he walked away from the bar slightly swaying back and forth as he walked and headed toward the back entrance that lead out into the dark alleyway behind the tavern.

The music finally faded into another melody that was much slower than the previous one and the taverns people all began to clap and cheer loudly as their phantom performance was over. Amalia jumped at the sudden loud uproar, as she had not noticed the crowd that had formed around them, and realized the position that they were in. She quickly became aware of the growing heat that was blowing on her neck and looked down best she could to find Vossler's lips lingering there. She immediately pulled herself out of his grasp and walked away from him and toward the bar that they had been at earlier.

Standing straight again, Vossler watched her walk away from him and toward what looked like to be some of Vice's friends with curiosity and confusion. He honestly didn't know what he had done wrong to upset her and had quietly decided to take off after her to find out.

"Amalia," he called out to her as he trotted closer.

She didn't hear him.

"Amalia!" he called once more but this time she surprised him when she stopped suddenly and luckily he was able to halt his movement just in time or he would have collided into her and knocked her down to the floor with his momentum.

"What do you want Vossler?" she asked coldly, which confused him even more.

He tried to look her in the eyes but she kept her gaze focused to the floor to avoid his eyes. He didn't understand why her sudden change in attitude and placed his hands comfortingly onto each of her upper arms and said gently, "Look at me, please."

Her pained eyes remained glued to the floor and he could feel the slightest trembling sensation being emitted from her body, which caught him off guard.

"Amalia, Look at me!" he demanded this time and she finally fulfilled his request by looking him straight in the eyes. Vossler was taken aback by all the emotion that he could see in her eyes yet her face prevailed no emotion at all.

"What is wrong? Did I do something to upset you?" he questioned as his eyes continued to search hers for some sign of anything to clue him in to what she was feeling at the moment.

Assuredly Amalia let a small smile grace her lips, thought it was forced, and she replied with a slightly shaky voice, "Nothing is wrong…I was just feeling a bit dizzy that's all. It wasn't you." She lied but thankfully he couldn't tell that she had. He just gave her a confused glance and had started to open is mouth to say something but quickly thought against it, closing it in defeat knowing that something bigger was plaguing her thoughts.

"I think I'm going to retire for the night," she added

"I will escort you back to the barracks," Vossler asserted.

"No that will not be necessary, I can handle it myself," she retorted back making him remember their earlier altercation on the subject.

"But—" he tried to protest but was stopped short.

"I said that I can manage for myself, thank you!" she shot back heatedly

Letting a long sigh escape his mouth, he replied, "Yes, very well then. I will see you in the next training session tomorrow. Goodnight Amalia."

"Yes. Goodnight Vossler," she nodded and started to walk away from him when he quickly tightened his grip on her upper arms, forcing her to look back at him annoyed.

"Please, do be careful," he pleaded with her as he slackened his grasp on her arms and she pulled away, leaving him to stand alone in the sea of people crowding the main level.

"Don't worry about me," she huffed as she advanced her way toward the entrance of the tavern. But just before she could reach the thick wooded doors that lead out into the streets of Rabanastre, she was roughly grabbed by the arm and yanked around to find that the three jokers that Vice called his friends staggered before her.

Mildly annoyed she forcefully tried to pull her arm out of his handhold but was unsuccessful and settled for staring daggers at the man that held on to her tightly causing further damage to the already bruised joint.

"Unhand me!" she demanded.

"Are you leaving already?" they questioned her, ignoring her previous request.

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing, Vice just wanted to talk to you."

Suddenly the look on her face turned from one of annoyance to one of pure shock at realizing she had totally forgotten him since Vossler had asked her to dance and she had left him behind at the bar top.

"You should at least tell him goodbye before you leave."

"Yes I should," she reasoned as she finally was able to free her arm from its human cuff, "where is he at?"

"Well he went out back into the alleyway to get some air."

She gave them a look of confusion, "The alleyway?"

"Yeah, said that he wasn't feeling so hot but if you were looking for him he wanted us to tell you where to find him," he offered as he pointed in the direction of the back doorway.

"Alright then," she said as she trudged in the direction of the back door.

Upon reaching the back corridor she started to feel the dizzying effects of the earlier drinks that she had consumed fairly quickly that night. Thinking that she shouldn't of had those last three shots, she heaved the heavy wooden postern open and noticed that her vision was becoming slightly fuzzy, but not enough to where it hindered her sight.

Amalia slowly eased her way out into the quiet darkened alleyway and was startled when she heard the back door slam shut behind her. Feeling slightly nervous she turned around and tried to push the locked door open with no success.

"Damn," she muttered to herself.

"For such a pretty lady, you have such a dirty little mouth," a familiar male voice cockily replied as he sounded like he was smirking.

"Excuse me?" she questioned quite anxiously.

"I said that for such a beautiful woman you have—"

"I understood that part… wait… Vice is that you?" she asked timidly.

She tried to scan the darkness for her unseen guest but her eyes still had yet to adjust to the lack of light. She was then suddenly overwhelmed when a cold hand began to slowly slide its way across her back. She let out a short yelp and quickly pulled herself free, away from the intruding appendage. With haste she turned a one-eighty in the direction of which her backside had been facing and found herself almost face to face with a not so happy looking Vice. She was caught off guard by his closeness and she jumped which caused her back to collide with the cool wooden door that she had found to be currently locked.

She let out a sigh of relief, "Vice! I'm glad its only you." Then her attitude quickly morphed into mild anger and she agitatedly crossed her arms. " Don't scare me like that again!" she huffed at him.

"Sorry Amalia," he replied as he hung his head in mock apology which she could just barely make out in the dark as her eyes slowly adjusted.

"No you're not! I can read you like a book and that little gesture was of pure sarcasm."

" Oh was it then?" he pushed as he took one of his cold and clammy hands and grasped her wrist rather tightly causing her to cringe just barely from the heat of pain. She shivered at his cold touch and allowed him to gently pull her closer to him until her body was brushing up against his quite muscular one.

"Vice—" she tried to say in a warning tone but was interrupted by him as he slid is free hand around the side of her hip to the exposed skin on the small of her back where he tried to encourage her to move in closer to him.

"If you say that you can read me like a book then please my dear, tell me what I plan to do next," he challenged as his breaths became shallow and he started to lean in closer to her lips.

"Vice stop this!" she demanded this time.

Not wanting any of this to go on further she quickly turned her head so that her cheek made contact with his lips instead of her own and she hurriedly tried to distance herself from him with no success. His grip around her wrist tightened fiercely sending daggers of pain shooting up her arm as her wrist let out a sickening '_crack_' sound from his assault. Her eyes shot up to meet his with fury and she furiously demanded in a low menacing tone, "Let…me…go…NOW!"

He returned her stare with a much more menacing one than her own which in turn unnerved her slightly but she refused to let him see it. She continued to hold up her facade of fury so that he couldn't see the true fear that was starting to surface in the back of her mind.

"Now why should I do that?" he calmly stated but with malice in his voice now. Somewhere along the lines of this planned meeting, something had gone wrong and now it was just going from bad to worse. He mentally tried to reason with himself as his anger continued to escalate but because of the extremely strong intoxicants that he had ingested earlier and the thought of her being with Vossler, his mental battle was lost and all hope for being reasonable was out of his mind's eye.

With his grip still locked tight on her wrist he forcefully drug her to a more secluded area of the alleyway that happened to be a dead end. She tried hard to free herself from his clutches but with no such luck.

"Let me go Vice!" she screamed but was instantly answered by Vice assertively throwing her hard up against the brick wall causing the back of her head and her back to hit the wall with an explosion of sharp pain surging through her body. She tried to squirm as he forced his body on top of her trying hard to still her as she was '_much stronger than the average woman'_ he thought to himself. In a last ditch effort to try and escape she took her free hand and brought it hard across the right side of his jaw, hearing a satisfied _'crack'_ sounding from the impact. And once again she continued to try and wriggle herself free in hope of an escape.

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_So what ya think? Sorry that this chapter was a bit on the short side... the next one should make up for it! Please take the extra time to leave me a review :-)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hahaha! I know I'm a meanie for leaving the last chapter as a cliffy, but if I hadn't it wouldn't have all fit in one chapter... so sue me! (I don't mean that ;-) I'm broke... really please...) I hope that I have more than made up for that and the short last chapter with this one. Its extra long:-P As always thanks for the reviews and support, they really do help motivate! Read. Enjoy. Review! Sweet... my story has gotten 400+ hits!!! (does the mc hammer dance and boogies down, LOL!)_

_landis icelilly_

_Note: This chapter has some graphic content that would probably support the M rating so don't say that I didn't warn you! _

_**Discl:** I don't see the point in saying this every chapter but just to save my cute little butt... I own absolutly nothing!! ...well maybe some cookies..._

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Inside the Sandsea… 

Ten minutes had yet passed since Amalia and his dancing escapade, which had ended up leaving him in utter confusion and her leaving in an unsettling attitude, one of the likes that he had never seen in her before. After she had walked away he had found himself occupying his original seat from before and noticed that the controversial frosted bottle now sat on the counter dry as a bone. He mentally thought to himself that Vice probably had drunk the rest of it in hopes of regaining his pride or something of the matter.

'_I guess he is trying to one up me by downing the rest. Ha!'_ he thought to himself, _'Never, even if he really tried. He should try having Ashe as his charge that would be enough to drive anyone to become an alcoholic!'_

Vossler fully turned himself towards the bar top with an exhausted sigh and flagged down the old burly barkeep. As the man approached his eyes widened in shocking surprise.

"Well now, I can't believe ya drank all that and ya still standing! I give ya my respects soldier! Care to take on another?"

"Well I had some help but I don't think he faired as well," he laughed and then suddenly wondered where his earlier drinking partner had gone. "Aye, I think I will handle another."

"Brave man I must say! I will be right back, sir," the bartender said as he chuckled on his way back to the storage cellar to find another bottle.

As Vossler waited for the older man to return with his order, he couldn't help but eavesdrop onto a nearby conversation as he patiently stared at the counter top. His heart rate had slowed and the blood that had been pulsating through him during their little show had ceased to its normal flow but he still could feel the intense heat that it carried through his veins. On top of that, his rather fast intake of the strong spirits was now starting to take its toll on his mind and body as he started to feel the smallest amount of drowsiness tug at him, but he chose to ignore it and continued to listen into the conversation taking place next to him.

"How long has it been?"

"I don't know, you where the one that was suppose to be on top of the whole situation!"

"No I wasn't, I was just the one that was suppose to do the talking! Not everything else!"

"Hey! Will the two of you shut the bloody hell up?! He said that he would handle the rest as soon as she was out there… so don't worry about it!" the third voice intervened.

"Yeah, but do you remember the last three times we decided to check on him, he was having a bit of… trouble shall we say?"

"Uggh, yeah I remember but what makes you conspire that she is similar to the others?"

"Trust me, did you see how see acted with him when they played that latter game of pool? Amalia is quite the Firemane. Believe me, she is beautiful and easy on the eyes but wild and untamed underneath at heart; no sooner than he try to handle her, that she will burn him."

In the mist of the conversation, the bartender had since returned with a fresh bottle and glass and had poured him a shot only to continue on with his duties seeing that Vossler was deep in thought. Vossler quickly gulped down the drink and almost choked on it as he heard the three men that he had been listening in on next to him; mention the alias name of his royal charge. This piqued his interest in the conversation and he mentally shook himself to clear his head to make sure he had heard them right. As he looked up, his suspicions were answered when he saw that the three men in conversation were none other than Vice's three lackeys, which only meant trouble as he had learned in past ordeals with the group. He remained quiet as he pried more into their continuing exchange amongst each other to find out more information.

"Damn it, you have a point. She is going to burn him and burn him bad she will. I best think that we should intervene with this one. Vice isn't that cunning to wield this mane on his own."

"Come on then lets go help him." They finished as they set down their half full mugs of ale on the bar top and one by one, they each retreated behind the other to the back archway that lead out into the alleyway.

'_The alleyway? What in bloody Ivalice is she doing back there? She told me that she was retiring for the night.'_ He quietly questioned himself as he quickly poured another two shot fulls and downed each of them as if they were water before he began his trek to the back corridor. As he somewhat hurriedly walked toward the door he felt the blood begin to boil again in his veins instead of the concern that should have replaced it as he was her sworn protector.

'_I swear Ashelia, you will be the death of me if not the Empire first!'_ he huffed in his mind as he reached the wooden door and slowly pulled the heavy oak open to only peer out into quiet darkness. He listened intently trying to make out any voice exchanges as he stealthy slipped out and latched the door silently closed behind him.

* * *

Amalia continued to fight for her freedom as she gave another jaw cracking blow to his head's right side that caused him to lose grip on her wrist and she was able to slip away momentarily. Suddenly she found her cheekbone meeting the hard cold cobblestone as her feet were quickly taken out from underneath her by an unknown figure in the dark. She let out a faint cry as she struck the stone but was not allowed to lie there long as she was roughly pulled up off the alley floor by another figure that had materialized out of the darkness. The man that had pulled her off the ground now tightly held her arms behind her back with one hand and the other was wrapped around her chest area, which forcefully pushed her up against his body to secure her. 

As she struggled more, a final figure appeared out of the dark haze with Vice joining him at his side. She suddenly recognized them to be Vice's so called roommates and felt that feeling of fear in the back of her mind suddenly creep its way into the foregrounds of her thoughts.

Momentarily trying to pull an arm free, she hissed," You were in on this too?!"

The figure adjacent to Vice let out a rich laugh that infuriated her, "No my dear sweetheart…"

"Then unhand me if you want nothing further of me! I'm not your damn sweetheart!" she spit out venomously this time sending the heel of her boot crushing down on her captor's instep causing him to release his grip on her to nurse his newly injured foot. Quickly she tried again to make a run for it but was violently shoved backwards into the wall that Vice had previously pinned her on. Once again she felt the hard stone meet her back and the pain that surged through it. She looked up to meet their eyes that were intently roaming her figure and tried to maintain her strong façade as she searched for a way out of this situation.

"I must say Vice, she _is_ quite the Firemane. Such a shame that we have to restrain her so that she may be bridled," the shadow implied to Vice.

"I must agree, what a shame," he shook his head slowly giving her an evil smirk.

She came to the conclusion that she had no other means of escape and chose to fight back as best she could until someone gave way to her flight. Not taking his friend's comment lightly she retorted back with dignity, "I am not some mare made to be saddled! I can't believe you Vice! I thought you better than this! I defended you against Vossler's harsh words and look at you now! You are exactly everything Vossler warned me of... you are a damn coward!"

The second Vice heard those words leave her lips was the second that his rage boiled over and consumed him.

_'Did she just call me a... coward?!'_ he questioned himself as he made a bee-line towards her so fast that if she had blinked she would have missed him coming straight at her. His left hand brutally clamped around her neck, pinning the back of her neck against the wall, slowly causing her air supply to dwindle. She tried to scream as the oxygen was being cut off but nothing exited her mouth as she labored for breath.

"You think me some coward! Ha! You must be sorely mistaken Amalia. If it is a coward that you seek then you should only need to look into a mirror to find one," he scathed as she continued to pull frantically at his hands to release his pressure only to feel the slight light headedness taking over her body as her sight began to blur.

"Hmm, I think we should start our _training_ now to teach our mane some manners... shall we?" said a deep voice from over Vice's shoulder. At that same instance the man threw his Assassin's Dagger, embedding itself into the cobblestone wall merely centimeters away from her head. Vice slowly loosened his clasp on her neck and moved his right hand up to her shoulder to keep her from trying to flee as he yanked the dagger out of the mortar with the hand that had previously been around her neck. Amalia let out a huge gasp as the oxygen flooded back into her lungs and into her bloodstream bringing her back into almost full alertness again.

Vice looked intently at the dagger in his hand with a devilish grin while off-handedly questioning, "Now what do you suppose I use this for?"

She suddenly caught the slightest glimmer of the blade in his hand as her heart began to race.

"You wouldn't dare!" she let out in almost a panic as he quickly turned his head back towards her face to catch the faintest glimpse of fear wash over it.

"Ah, is that fear that I see you trying to hide?" he asked as he brought the blade of the dagger to rest on the exposed skin of her thigh. Just as fast as her fear had shown, it was gone and the mask of pure fury and rage returned to make its presence known.

"Consider yourself privileged then because it won't happen again," she retorted menacingly.

"Hmph, arrogant as ever, I'll have to break you of that," he stated with a smirk as he took the tip of the blade and lightly pushed up the fabric of her skirt to reveal the delicate skin of her inner thigh underneath where the blade once again rested. He felt her shiver under his grasp as the cool metal of the blade met her skin.

"Do as you will, I care not!" she urged him on to prove her fearlessness.

"In that case…" he said as he held her tightly against the wall expecting her to fight him as he pushed the sharp edge of the blade into her soft skin and slowly drug it horizontally across her thigh, moderately cutting into the thick muscle tissue.

She bit down hard onto her tongue to withhold any emotion of pain as she felt the intense burn spread from the inside of her thigh to the outside. She held his gaze as he executed this task not blinking once, letting him see that she showed no pain only her growing rage to him. She knew that if she ever survived this ordeal that she would have a lot to explain to Vossler.

'_Damn, I wish I had accepted his offer to escort me back now! Uggh, me and my damn pride,'_ she cursed herself as she felt the sticky warm blood begin to quickly trickle down her thigh.

She suddenly felt Vice jolt when he heard the faintest sound of the latch on the tavern door click and quickly placed his hand on her mouth tightly and with the blade in the other hand, forced it at her throat if she dared to make a noise.

Quietly, Vice whispered, "Make a sound and I'll silence you!"

She nodded in cooperation and remained silent as told as she watched in the direction of the tavern door, seeing a shadowed figure slip out of it into the darkness. There was a sudden hope that welled up inside her as her chances of being pulled from this torture party were greatly increased.

They patiently watched as the figure remained still trying to gain its bearings in the extremely dim lighting the alleyway gave.

'_Oh gods, I only hope that you aren't another one come to take part in this,'_ she pleaded to herself when she saw that the figure was now slowly treading in their direction. Finally when the figure reached an area that had some lighting; it flickered and revealed the silhouette of a tall broad shouldered man, a little more than six feet in height, coming cautiously closer to the group.

Amalia quickly looked down at the blade that was pressed against her throat and then to the man that held it there noticing that he was more concerned with the intruder than the blade. When she looked back up towards the silhouetted man she caught a glimpse of the distinctive armor that plated the boots of the approaching man.

' _Vossler! '_

Hastily she materialized her plan of flight by stealthily positioning one of her hands around the dagger placing it between the blade and her neck. When she had a good enough grip on the sharp metal she bit down hard onto Vice's hand that was covering her mouth, tasting the blood that seeped through the broken skin. He let out a loud groan and quickly removed his hand from her mouth.

Now was her chance and she screamed, "Vossler—"

But as soon as the words left her lips the dagger was menacingly yanked from her grasp cutting deep into her palm's flesh and the back of his hand met with the side of her face with an audible _'smack'_ stopping her from continuing.

Finally coming into view, Vossler looked on in a state of shock, which soon morphed into a state of pure animosity when he saw the way that Vice had his royal lineage forced up against the stone wall.

"Vice, let Amalia go now or face the consequences!" Vossler demanded in a low menacing tone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the three others try to slowly slip into the shadows as not to be caught and he quickly yelled at them, "Not so fast you three bucket heads! Get your asses back here now!"

They quickly obeyed and returned into the dimly lit area so that Vossler could keep an eye on them as he took care of Vice, fearing what he could possibly do to them since they had never seen their Captain in such a rage before.

"Don't make me repeat myself soldier!" he said as he turned his attention back to Vice.

Vice still clenched her upper arm to the wall, so tightly that the blood was stopped from flowing through to her hand. He held the dagger with the blade resting upon her upper right arm, concealed from Vossler's view by his current position and looked up to her with a wild look in his eyes and a cruel smirk playing at his lips. She then quickly looked up to Vossler meeting his eyes with ones of panic, which quickly alerted him that something was wrong.

"This is your last chance Vice! Release her or else I will be forced to take you into containment!" He asserted himself one final time as he approached the young man's backside drawing out his own concealed weapon, a Zwill Crossblade dagger, and forced it against the side of his throat. But as soon as the steel blade touched Vice's skin, he lashed out and pulled his own dagger across Amalia's upper arm, creating a deep gash in her flesh, and continued his arm's full swing out to Vossler's midsection.

Years of rigorous training enabled Vossler to quickly dodge the attack and use Vice's momentum to follow through the swing and pull his arm up behind his back in a painful restraint causing the dagger to clatter to the ground. Vossler then quickly slammed the offender into the same stonewall that Amalia had been thrown into earlier, hearing his face smack the damp stone.

With haste, Amalia quickly darted out the only exit there was from the alleyway until she reached the deserted streets of Rabanastre. Once there she continued to run out of sight from the night watches the Empire had supplied her streets with because if she were caught, she would surely be sent to the gallows. She continued to run until she reached the east entrance of Lowtown where she slowed to a fast walk until she reached the door to her bunk room. She quickly pulled the door open and ran in slamming it closed and locking it once she was clear. She breathed in labored breaths as she rested her head on the cool oak door and slowly let herself collapse to the floor in exhaustion.

Vossler watched as he saw Amalia flee out of the alleyway and only prayed that she avoid anymore-unneeded confrontations. He still held Vice, face first, into the wall as he interrogated him agitatedly.

"What in Ivalice did you think you were doing?! Assaulting a superior officer is a major offense!" Vossler boomed but received no response.

"And with the likes of your reputation, you aren't going to get off easy this time!"

"Tell me Captain…do you _enjoy_ her? I mean is she really that satisfying?" Vice shot back with an arrogant smirk plastered across his face.

"Or is it… that she is, but you cannot keep _her_ cravings satisfied and that's why she sought out for a greater pleasure? Is that your '_old score'_ that needs to be settled?"

His comments infuriated him and with his free hand he balled it up into a fist and sent it colliding into Vice's already mangled jaw hearing the bone's cracking sound as his jawbone was more than likely shattered. Vice fell to the ground in agony, holding his head in his hands and spitting out the blood that was now flowing into his mouth from his injury.

Looking down upon the soldier, Vossler threatened, "You know _nothing _of the truth! If you ever as so much as talk of her in such a manner again, I will be the one to personally bring you to your fate at the gallows!"

And with one last blow, Vossler sent his steal plated boot to meet with his stomach and satisfactorily walked away, leaving the alleyway and his now ex-soldiers behind him as he heatedly began his search for a certain princess in hiding.

* * *

Collapsed on her bunkroom floor, Amalia was slowly able to stop the intense pounding of her head and heart as the cool wood from the door helped to ease the pain of her colorfully damaged cheek. She touched her fingers of her injured hand up to test the sensitivity of her bruise and winced when she made the slightest of contact with it. Sitting up right now, she began to feel the walls for the switch to turn on her light crystal and noticed that her left hand was throbbing immensely, forgetting her earlier inflicted gash. She made contact with the switch and quickly clamped her eyelids shut as the pitch-black room flooded with light. She blinked repeatedly for a couple of seconds until her eyes adjusted and then focused onto the source of the pain to realize that it was oozing blood from the diagonal hand width sized slash in her palm. Further examination of herself revealed blood seeping from a small dagger wound adorning her right bicep and a massive laceration that extended a good couple inches across parts of her inner and outer left thigh. 

Letting out a loud shaky sigh, she forced herself back up onto her legs and went into her bathing chamber to find her medical kit that she always kept available underneath her washbasin. She pulled out the kit that contained various types of gauze, bandages, tapes and anything else that would be of use to injuries and placed it on top of the wooden counter top. She opened the kit and pulled out a fresh roll of gauze, some cotton bandaging pads, tape to secure it all in place, a needle and a roll of thread and organized it all out onto the counter.

She then grabbed a somewhat clean towel, dipped it into some cool water and began to gently scrub at the cuts that decorated her body. When she felt as though they were clean enough she applied some iodine to the wounds to keep any infections down and also as an added cleanser. Next she grabbed the needle and took a generous amount of the thread and sent it through the eye of the needle, knotting it at the end.

Choosing the laceration on her thigh first, as it started to become more painful than the others, she hoisted herself up to sit on top of the counter and slowly but precisely she began to send the needle through the flesh on one side of the cut to the other side pulling it tight to make the skin meet once again. She continued on with the next couple of stitches as she firmly clenched her teeth together to force herself to remain quiet and swallow the dreadful amounts of pain. As she finished the last few sutures, she had finally relaxed her jaw muscles as she had became accustomed to the sharp agony that panged her limb every time she inserted and removed the needle in a completed stitch. She pulled the thread of the last suture tight, knotted it and snip the excess loose with a small knife that she had supplied the kit with.

Putting the needle down at her side she sat back with her back up against the mirrored wall and examined her work as she wiped away the blood that had exuded itself as she closed the gash. She then leaned her head back and closed her eyes to help try and clear the racing thoughts that wouldn't seem to stop in her head.

'_How was I so stupid?! I should have seen it coming… But he wasn't acting like that before, why did he do it then? Why them too… I can't believe those three would aid him in such a display! And Vossler… why did I ever let him get to me like that? Why was _he_ even acting like that? Why… why am I rambling on for?! Aaahhh… I've got to stop thinking so much! I'm just going to make myself forget everything and move on,'_ she mentally concluded to herself as she brought her knees up to her chest and her hands up to her face and sighed deeply. As she exhaled, a lot of the tension went out of her body with it, leaving her in a more serine state than earlier.

She took the wet towel that lay next to her and wiped clean the arm wound that needed to be tended to next. Then with her non-writing hand she grabbed the threaded needle, re-knotted the end and slowly began sewing the tattered ends of flesh back together so they could regenerate.

About halfway through, Amalia was startled by a loud knock that sounded from her door causing her to stab herself with the needle and let out a rather loud curse.

"Announce yourself!" she demanded irritated.

"It is I… Vossler," he replied in a heavy but hushed tone.

She heaved out a loud sigh and quietly cursed to herself as she placed the threaded needle that was still attached to her upper arm, into her mouth and walked to the door to undo the lock and cracked it open for him as she walked back into her bathing chamber to continue doctoring herself.

Vossler slowly walked into the room closing the door behind him and watched her return to her pervious location, he assumed, with a noticeable limp in her step. He raised his eyebrow in question as he asked, "What did he do to you?"

It sounded more like a statement than an actual question, but she ignored him not wanting to relive the experience in her head as she began the motions to finish stitching the laceration. He stepped up closer to her and repeated, "Amalia…tell me what he did to you?!"

This time it sounded like there was anger laced into it as she gave him a reply.

"I do not wish to address it at the moment," she stated calmly in her regal tone.

He let out an audible sigh and walked into the room standing next to her. He stared at her through the mirror as he watched her hand motions working steadily on her bicep, not quite able to make out what exactly she was doing. She was trying to keep the wound out of his eyesight until she could bandage it but that was proving difficult when she reached a point where she was unable to maneuver the needle to where she needed it.

Vossler noticed her distress and placed a hand on her left shoulder to gently turn her around so that he may be of some assistance to her. As the dark bloody skin came into his view, his eyes widened in astonishment not really knowing the true extent of what she was put through before he had arrived.

"Amalia… I'm—" he tried to say but she quickly cut him off.

"If any one is to be uttering apologies tonight, it should be me. I wasn't thinking."

"I shouldn't have let you go alone…I just wished that you would have heeded my warnings earlier! You can't just take your life and everything around you in vain!" he urged as he had taken the needle out of her hand and began completing the surgery she had started upon herself.

A moment of silence passed between them as Vossler knotted the final stitch and cut the remaining thread away, setting it all back onto the counter top. Sensing that she was going to retaliate, he continued with his lecture, "Did you truly forget who you are? What you symbolize for Dalmasca… for Ivalice?!" His pointed stare was met suddenly by an infuriated one of her own as she snapped back at his answer.

"No, I have never forgotten who I am or what I symbolize Vossler! I don't take this plight all in vain as you may think."

"Then why must you always do this to yourself? Always pushing the limits… putting yourself in unnecessary danger?"

"I agree that this situation was indeed caused by my own stupidity and arrogance, but I do what I must at times, Vossler! If this had been a battle for an upper hand at the Empire or Vayne, you or anyone of the other Captains would have done the same and took the chance! They would have gone out of their way to save what little they could of their country…their freedom…just as I try now," she retorted back as her eyes fell from Vossler's to her still untended injury on her palm.

He sighed heavily knowing that his words would only fall upon deaf ears. She was right. He would do the same and risk his life just to know that the future to come would be brighter for it. He watched as Amalia held her injured hand in the other and began to scrub and rinse way the sticky blood that still seeped from it, in her washbasin. She made sure not to physically show her pain and mentally berated herself that if she ever did, she would never forgive herself for showing any more signs of weakness than she already had.

Finally the wound was clean enough to close and after she applied the iodine she hurriedly grabbed the needle and began once again, the tedious back and forth motions to sew her battered hand back together.

A silent curse came from her lips, which caused Vossler to come up by her side in concern. In all of her irritation she had been haphazardly mending her hand when she had stabbed the flesh that was not in need of attention.

Vossler then took control of the situation having seen that she really was in no condition to be doing this on her own and gently grasped the wrist of her injured hand and the needle, then nodded for her to sit on top of the counter as she had previously done. She snapped her head up towards his and met his dark hazel eyes, which she noted to herself that she never really had noticed before; they were intense and hazy, possibly from the alcohol, but as they peered into her she only saw the true caring concern that he was trying to show her.

Her glare softened and she relaxed as she let out a tired sigh, though he had hold of the same wrist that Vice had more than likely badly sprained. She obeyed his request and allowed him to help her up onto the counter top.

Once again in silence, Vossler began gently but expertly suturing the gash closed. He took the quietness as a time to think and analyze her current state, looking over her battered and bruised body. From what he could view, her injuries totaled to: lacerations to the left thigh, right bicep, and her left palm, a bruised right cheekbone and a severely sprained left wrist.

He felt a knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach as he thought, _'If I could have only gotten there sooner… she wouldn't be… in this pain.'_

He looked up to see how she was fairing since she had not since uttered a word and found that she had been intently watching him the entire time he worked. With every stitch she never once flinched or stirred in pain as she gave him a weak smirk. He could only return her action with a weak smile of his own but he made sure that she could see the admiration that it held for her and her strength she continually showed, no matter the circumstances.

Finishing the final stitch, Vossler quickly secured and clipped free the excess thread, setting the needle back into its compartment in the kit. Next he picked up the roll of gauze and began firmly dressing the wounds that were now properly tended to, starting at her palm and ending with the injury on her thigh with a bit of hesitation.

Amalia instantly noticed his falter and abruptly took her hand and stopped his hand from having to apply the lightweight bandage to the, no doubt in his mind, _'forbidden'_ area of flesh. Her action startled him but he wordlessly and thankfully, let her pull the remainder of the rolled material out of his hand and proceeded to complete what he could not.

Shakily, she replaced all the missing contents of her medical kit back into their compartments and clasped it shut, while she slid herself off the counter top back onto her feet.

"Just like new," she appraised but as soon as she applied her full weight to the limbs, her knees began to feel jelly-like and the instability of them caused her to collapse. Luckily Vossler was standing directly in front of her and was able to catch her by her arms before she had completely hit the floor.

He slowly helped her back up into a standing position not realizing that he had only allowed mere inches between their bodies.

Once standing again, Amalia weakly replied, "Thank you," not fully registering the positions of Vossler's hands and the proximity of their bodies to one another.

"You're welcome, but you need not forget that I am always at your service, m'lady," he answered in a softer tone than what he had used with her earlier. "Are you alright?"

His words slowly sunk in as she began to feel his thumbs gently caressing her arms, which quickly shot her senses into overdrive, and she snapped her head up to only look at him in shock for his actions.

'_What is he…?'_

Suddenly, as if it were an instinct, she felt her arms begin to tremble underneath his touch remembering the pain that she had endured with what these simple gestures caused and her only words that she managed to choke out was, "I'm…fine… "

'_Please… no… not this again! It's the same every time… I can't bear to endure this pain again… please. Just take my words for what they are Vossler… let me go. (sigh)'_

Vossler was slightly confused, for another time tonight, by her reaction but was overcame with a strong since of déjà vu, somehow remembering this same encounter with her just mere hours after her Highness and Lord Rasler had been wed. He hadn't known what had gone through her head or what had happened to her on her wedding night. Just like he didn't know now what was going through her head or what had caused her to tremble so suddenly at his touch, but what he did know is that he would get to the bottom of it and find out what the real reason was for her sudden behavior.

"Fine?" he questioned her. She only nodded her head back to him as she quickly tried to pull herself out of his grasp taking a step back in almost a slight panic but was unsuccessful when Vossler tightened his grip. He knew that whenever she didn't want any confrontations or was trying to avoid something, she would hastily try to distance herself from the situation. He had learned this little trait of hers when she was a little girl and he was her 'metal plated nanny' as his squad had always called him.

He gently but firmly held onto her forearms to cancel her efforts to break free and at the same time quietly whispered, "Ashelia…not this time."

'_He said it…my real name… doesn't he know that anyone could be listening to us?! Wait…oh gods… he remembered… he is going to ask me about that night… about…Rasler…'_

She looked him in the eyes with a knowing plea for him not to ask, but she would be damned for the gods did not answer her request. Just the anticipation of what he would ask her was enough to cause her trembles to worsen.

Vossler felt her begin to shake more noticeably and asked her in a soft comforting voice, "Please… tell me why I'm causing you to be in this state. I know that this is naught you but ever since your wedding night when you almost limped, it seemed, out into the corridor from your chambers and collided with me, that something more had happened than what you had led me to believe m'lady. Do I speak the truth in that I see a liar in my own royal liege, a mere cover up to seal away the veracity of the situation?"

Amalia began to shy away from him as she tightly closed her eyes to force back the imaginary tears and turned her head away from his direction to the floor. She let a heavy sigh escape her lips as she tried to collect her train of thought before she embarked on telling him the truth.

Quietly she started, "Aye, a cover up is what I had told you but I, mark you, am no liar."

"But why the lies then if you are no liar? Surely you do not acquire a limp from simply being cold as you had told me those two years past," he questioned her still not giving her any slack on his grip.

"So you noticed that…" Amalia winced as she looked down at her feet, her tone filled with shame.

Vossler released one of her arms so that he could place his index finger and thumb of his freed hand upon her chin and delicately lifted her head up so that his eyes met with her tired, worn and pained ones. "Yes…I did."

"Don't Vossler," she tried to plead with him to stop the intimate contact but her words fell from mid air, never reaching his ears.

"What happened?"

Her body still shuddered as she finally initiated the truth, "Rasler… wasn't the gentleman that he had portrayed himself to be. I hadn't thought of him as anything less than the perfect Nabradian noble with their manners and such. As you may have seen, he had only showed his perfectly crafted façade to fool everyone…the people, you, me and most importantly, my father. This, as I later came to find, was his way of expanding his family's territories and having more leverage against the Empire and Emperor Gramis. He merely only wanted to use my family's heritance for his gain and revenge toward the Arcadians. But those three hours after he had became my husband and Prince to not only Nabradia but also Dalmasca; word was broken that his beloved homeland and also his father, had perished to the very hands he hated most. He had became angered by this revelation and wanted to accompany the fleets to Nalbina Fortress that would leave in the early morning soon after the ceremony, granting him the leadership of the Dalmascan troops."

Amalia took a moment to catch her breath and steady herself better for the part that was yet to come. She looked up to Vossler and saw that his face was showing his conflict of emotions caused by this new information she was diverging to him. Letting another sigh exit her lips she continued on.

"What was supposed to be our wedding night was anything but what I had made it seem. Since he had kissed his bride, he had wanted little or no contact with me at all. I saw this as strange but I let the issue be, seeing as he was most likely wrot with grief from the news of his losses and prepared for our consummation that we were bound to by written law of our ancestors. That was when I met the true Rasler Heios Nabradia. Neither a Prince nor knight in shining armor as I had once been fooled to think, but a power hungry and cold hearted Hume sought only on revenge now. It was not what I wanted or how it should have been… I had tried with all my strength to stop him… but…he was too… strong for me. He… had me pinned and…"

That was when her eyes started to fill with the salty flux that was threatening to be shed and her body began to almost violently quaver but she quickly got a grip on herself so that not even one tear was lost holding true to her word to not shed anymore tears.

Vossler could only look on in complete disbelief. He never suspected Lord Rasler of being a two faced person. But he would have never of thought in all of Ivalice, that Lord Rasler, would take advantage of someone as innocent as Ashe.

* * *

_Soo? Yeah I know it was mean of me to make Rasler like that but thats how I wanted it. (... takes cover from possible flying objects aimed at the head...) Sorry Rasler lovers, I like him too but everyone likes to make him seem like the perfect gentlemen, having him and Ashe either love each other or as a marriage of convenience being friends. I wanted to take a different approach to it... I like it better when things are dark... if ya couldn't tell:-D Please drop me a line and let me know how I'm doing! -landis icelilly_


	7. Chapter 7

_Ok first off I just want to say thanks to my wonderful reviews! Thanks a bunch:-) Next I wanna say... Whoo Hoo... 500+ hits!!! Now I wanna say (lol :-P)... sorry for a kind of short chapter, but I did put some minor goodies in it :-D Please read & review!!_

_Note: It will be a bit before I post the next chapter. I will only hope that I am fogiven when I do post the next chapter and the surprise within it :-)_

_**Discl:** I hate these stupid things... We already know that I have nothing and own nothing! Ugh, why rub it in:-)_

* * *

Vossler let his grip on her slacken allowing his hands to drop to his sides, as he looked at her in a different light. He felt sorry for her. 

'_This would explain for earlier,'_ he thought while in his stupor.

Amalia quickly pulled away from his grasp and walked toward her dresser that contained her armor and uniforms. She sadly glanced over the intricately engraved steel plates of her leg armor that sat out on top of the chest, lightly tracing the golden details with her petite fingers. She hoped that Vossler's silence wasn't a sign of anger toward her for not telling him then of all that had happened. She hung her head, once again in shame, hating herself for being so weak and replied, "No more secrets, no more lies, only truth."

Amalia stole a quick peek toward Vossler's direction to see if he expressed any emotion at all, but was startled when she looked over to find him standing unbearably close to her. His mental state was one of distress, as he carefully looked her in the eyes, knowing that he just forced her to relive an extremely painful memory that she had no doubt wanted to forget.

He rested a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it, "I'm sorry for causing you pain. I had no idea…what he did to you."

She exhaled when she turned to confront him and replied, "No need for an apology. I see that you are only trying to protect me and see to my well-being. I should have told you the moment that I rushed into you, but I just … couldn't."

Vossler watched as she once again let her gaze fall to her platinum armor that had been haphazardly thrown onto the dresser from earlier, in despair. He hated to see her like this. He wished that there were something that he could do that would rid her of the torment and pain. Ever since she had grown up into the young beautiful woman that she was now, he had naught seen the happiness and exuberance that she had once exhibited when she was younger. He had missed that part of her greatly and hoped that somehow, someday when this whole ordeal was said and done with, that she would return to her previous self and not become consumed by the suffering she was in now. It was taking a toll on her, he knew. Her already slender body was almost beginning to show the first signs of emaciation from her poor appetite she had developed from the stress of things these past two years. The healthy glow that had once radiated from her darkly tanned skin was now replaced by a dull sheen that clung to her sickly pale white tones. Her once bright and sparkling sapphire irises were no longer evident, being consumed by the cold and stormy blue frost they now offered.

He mentally shook himself trying to clear the foggy haze that had surrounded his better judgment and slowly took a small step toward her, bringing is body into closer proximity. Sighing inwardly, he debated whether his next choice of action would be a mistake as he reached his hand out timidly and cupped her soft pale cheek, which triggered her head to snap up into his palm as she looked at him in confusion. She felt her heart's beat intensify suddenly at his touch, so much that she was certain that it would rip itself from her chest cavity, causing the muscle to release a dull ache in her bosom.

She took no attempts to move away from him so Vossler felt reassured and continued his movement as he softly turned the rest of her body to fully face him. Then he slowly began to rub his thumb in small circles on her cheek hoping to comfort her, but it backfired on him and she quickly began to shiver faintly at his contact.

Amalia didn't know exactly what was taking place at that particular moment but the rush of emotions that were flooding her body caused her to go numb and slightly shake, overwhelming her. She didn't understand what Vossler was trying to do, but he had defiantly stirred something within her. When she looked up into his eyes, she could see nothing but a cloudy and emulsified daze mixed with something else that she couldn't quite catch as it had only momentarily shown. She quickly had become aware of his body's adjacency to her own, feeling the heat that it was emitting and froze in realization, fearing his intentions with her. The dry cottony feeling in her mouth prevented her from voicing her plea so she could only look him in the eyes and hope that he could read her requisition. She began to feel the unexpected burn in her cheek as the heat from his touch intensified, throwing her senses into disarray. The feeling it filled her with shocked her and gave her a slight sense of calm as she subconsciously nuzzled her cheek further into his palm and closed her eyes in condolence. She slowly began to relax and submit to his taction as her thoughts and emotions continued their turmoil within her, all helplessly swirling into a blur. She didn't know what to presume about his advances on her; she knew naught what his intent was but the sensations it brought froze her in the very place she stood as she fought to gain control of her bodily actions.

When Vossler felt her cheek once again slightly nudge into his hand, he took that as a sigh of her compliance and he quickly took a chance closing his eyes and placing his lips carefully onto hers testing his limits to see if she would pull away and slap him, denying him to proceed any farther. To his surprise she didn't pull away but nor did she return the gesture, she had only allowed her eyes to flutter open in mild surprise, then drift back closed in her mental fog.

Feeling the sudden warmth and mildly chapped texture of his lips confounded her but the bleary haze that clouded her mind prevented her from proceeding.

_It was as if she was in some kind of trance as she entered a dreamy state of euphoria and within this illusion of sorts, she had pulled away from their embrace bewildered from such intimate contact and noticed that she was no longer among Vossler's presence but of another man's. He was of the same height and build as Vossler but had a head of longer blonde hair that had been neatly combed back, keeping it from falling into his rather tanned face. She then looked up to the man's eyes and noted that they were no longer the dazed hazel colored ones she had previously pled with but ones that glowed an icy blue sending a chill up her spine as she became engulfed by their intensity. She couldn't help but feel comforted by this man's presence as her mind scrambled to figure out who he was. His facial features were very distinct and defined; they were almost perfect, she thought to herself, from his not so long nose and perfectly toned cheeks to his flawless lips and jaw line. She then observed the faint but defiantly distinguished thin blonde stubble of his beard that adorned his face adding to the feeling of familiarity. The man had seen her distant questioning gaze and let a soft smile grace his lips while he gently pulled her back into their embrace. She jumped when she felt her skin tingle from his contact, feeling an extreme desire to be near him as her body obeyed the man's request. He peered into her almost lifeless orbs and sadly shook his head though the same self-assured gentle smile still played at his lips. She gave him another quizzical look as he confidently brought both of his battle worn hands up to her, unexpectedly holding her cheeks in them as he tilted her lips up just in time to meet with his. Suddenly a sense of completeness and desire for more washed over her body as she quietly moaned into him, deepening their kiss. His lips were intoxicating, throwing her already mangled thoughts into a whole new dimension as she became addicted to his taste, craving more. Her body seemed so fragile and lithe, as if it floated lighter than a feather in his arms, her feet never touching the hard ground that had disappeared from under her. For once, she felt herself let go of everything, not caring about anything else but this moment because it just didn't matter. Eventually the mysterious man broke their increasingly intimate kiss and pulled himself away from her embrace. She watched him pull away from her as she felt his strong arms slide slowly out of her grasp. As he backed away he saw the multiple emotions taking hold of her but the one emotion that showed its strongest was that of pain. That's when he smiled to her and said, "Wait for me."_

_Before she could think she blurted out, "Wait!"_

_He only shook his head as he still continued to move out of her grasp._

"_Please…don't… leave me," she weakly requested as the sense of feeling whole again was torn from her and she suddenly felt cold and hollow once more, sadly lowered her head._

"_Ashelia," he whispered as she brought her head back up to his attention, "Please, wait for me."_

_She could only nod as he faded away into the bright white void, before her._

Vossler had felt her lips suddenly jolt to life as she began to hungrily accept his kiss allowing her tongue to slip its way into his mouth in exploration. He felt her quietly moan against his lips which pushed him over the edge as the burning need in him began to over take his body and he forcibly pressed his lips to hers causing them both to stumble backwards until Amalia's back roughly collided with the wood of her dresser. Still in her dreamlike haze, she felt the sudden sharp burn in her back as everything around her came crashing back from the heavens. Vossler's sudden domination brought her back to a state of awareness as her eyes shot open and she saw the predicament that he had put her in. She began to panic when she tried to push him off of herself but was quickly restrained from doing so when he pulled her arm down from his chest and painfully pinned it against the piece of furniture behind her. Countless thoughts ran through her head at that very second as she felt the knot in her stomach pull even tighter when the fear of what was going to happen settled in.

'_What the…? Damn him… ! How could he take advantage of me? Especially after I told him about Rasler!'_

A thought occurred to her as she felt the cool metal of her armor poke into her back and mentally kicked herself for not having remembered sooner. Somehow with some quick thinking and her extreme flexibility, she was able to free up her injured arm and though painful, was able to reach the armor a top her clothing chest. Stealthily, she felt for the hilt of one of her Platinum daggers concealed within the steel plating, grasping it when she touched the distinctive charm chained to it and slowly pulled it out so that it wouldn't make a sound. She carefully pulled her arm back toward her body with the menacing blade in hand and maneuvered it so that the tip of the brand was facing upwards between their bodies. As she waited for the perfect time to strike, images of Rasler's assault on her plagued her thoughts causing her to forget her rather heated encounter with the mysterious man entirely. The images kept flooding her brain, continuously repeating over and over in her mind, as he had thrown her down and rendered her helpless to him. Finally she felt Vossler pause in need of air and that's when she made her advance. Hastily pushing his body off of her with all the strength she could muster, she quickly brought the point of the dagger up to his throat and menacingly threatened, "Remember your place soldier!"

His eyes flashed open the instant that she had shoved him, finding her in a fit of anger and a… a blade at his throat? He quickly extended his hands out in front of his chest trying to block himself from the object approaching his neck and beg for her forgiveness at the same time.

"Whoa! Put the dagger down Amalia!" Vossler pleaded with her as she began to slowly draw toward him, still brandishing the steel.

"Who do you think you are?!" she scathed in return ignoring his earlier request to disarm herself and continued to back him up against the door that led out of her bedchamber.

"What do you mean? Hey! Please m'lady, there is no need for this!" he cried out as his back had finally met the wall next to the doorway.

Amalia ignored his words as she preceded her advance on him with a look in her eyes that could kill. He saw the animosity growing the more within her every step as she approached him and knew he had made a grave mistake.

'_Shit, shit, shit… bad idea! What was I thinking!'_ he panicked to himself, having seen his royal charge in action before when she was armed and pissed. The poor guard hadn't a chance even if his life had depended on it.

"Do I _look_ like a fresh piece of ass?! Do I _look_ like a damn bar or stable whore to you, Vossler?!" she roared at him with disgust as her nose stopped only a mere inch away from his own while the tip of her dagger's blade barely pierced the thin skin just under his chin. Wincing slightly as the metal bit into his skin causing a few drops of blood to stream down its brand, Vossler once again tried another attempt to apologize.

"Amalia, please! I made a mist—"

"Answer me, damn it! Do I?!"

"No," he sighed in defeat.

"Then what in the hell where you thinking?" she questioned him in disbelief as the not so lady like side continued to rear its ugly head. "Why would you try to pull this over my head when I've already been through this shit once today? And of things, after the torment of having to tell you about Rasler! Why did you do such a thing?!" She was beginning to shake almost violently with anger. Vossler could tell by the way her spoken words would tremble and how the dagger, as it slowly reappeared from under his chin, quavered in her extended hand.

"I only wanted to see you happy again… like the way you used to be… before you were betrothed," he said quietly as he lowered his eyes down in shame. "I'm sorry and I know that I have made a grave mistake. I let myself get out of hand but please forgive me for it was with good intentions that I pursued this. But I will understand if you find that I am not worthy of your forgiveness, Amalia."

Amalia too, wished to be like her old self once again but she new that was only a false hope to believe in. She had gone through far too much tragedy and suffering to bring the old Ashelia back. She had been brutally ripped to shreds over these few years, 'damaged goods' as they say, her soul forever scared for an eternity. Face it, she would never become who she once was, that person had died alongside the rest of her family.

"That part of me is dead, the happiness and the carefree, willed by the fates to be no more. So please… do not ask of me this," she said weakly as she closed her eyes and lowered her head in sadness. With a sigh of exhaustion, she walked toward her door and opened the heavy postern, signaling with her dagger for him to leave never making visual contact with him.

Vossler only gave her a simple nod of compliance.

"I bid you goodnight," he stated as he lowered his gaze and solemnly walked into the pitch-black corridor only to be followed by the sound of Amalia's door as it latched closed behind him.

* * *

As the oaken door clicked shut Amalia leaned herself against the cool wood, for a second time tonight, inhaling and exhaling deeply as she tried to calm herself. This whole night had been hell on her and she had only wished for it all to go away, to be able to crawl into a black hole somewhere and never be found.

Sighing to herself, she lamely pushed off the door and unsteadily trudged over to her bed where she practically collapsed onto it from her overexertion. She set her hands on her lap and jumped when she felt the cold stickiness of her blade touching her thigh, realizing that she still held the dagger. After examining it, she noticed the thin streams of blood that had trickled down from the tip and felt the sudden guilt well up inside of her. She hadn't meant for her outrage to happen, she hadn't meant for him to physically get hurt either but it was a trait of hers that couldn't be helped. When she was forced into a corner or angry, she would fight back, but if either of these situations happened when she was armed… well lets just say their efforts would be rewarded with a pine box in most cases if she ever chose to take it that far. And lately it seemed that this acquired trait of hers was being pushed more and more everyday. She only hoped that the day she completely and utterly snapped would be the day she comes face to face with Vayne Solidor himself.

A sudden rush of annoyance hit her at the thought of his name, what it meant for her country and her fingers abruptly clamped tight around the hilt as she reeled back and then threw her well-muscled arm forward launching it from her grasp into the brick mortared wall before her. Quietly she stared at the weapon's shank now embedded into the stone with a look of disgust.

"I should have known better than to put my trust into another man," she snarled to herself.

She shook her head in shame as she ran her bandaged hand through her tousled hair pushing the stray hairs out of her face.

'_What was wrong with him? Doesn't he remember his knightly vows? His sworn oath?! To protect me! Not ravish me!_' she brooded, her blood beginning to boil at the remembrance.

She let her gaze fall from the protruding dagger in the wall to the dull ache that her injured leg was emitting and was appalled at the thought of what it would represent to others that saw it. Weakness. The one thing she hated most to show. She couldn't believe that she had allowed herself to be fooled and fall victim to Vice and his accomplices. If only she had been stronger, she knew she wouldn't have had to rely on someone else; she would have been able to at least escape if not fight back.

Thinking more about her situation only served her to more fury as she slammed her fists down into the lumpy cotton mattress. Abruptly she shot up and stormed over to where she had deposited her platinum armor, forcefully yanking it off its perch. Next she bent down and pulled open the very bottom drawer of her chest and quickly took out her leather greaves and armored boots. Lastly, she grabbed the black leather cincture that protected her midsection and returned to her previous position she had occupied earlier with her possessions in tow. She hastily pulled the leather sleeves that lay beneath the platinum plates onto her legs being careful not to disturb the wound on her thigh as the leather hem stopped just a few centimeters below it. Quietly she next clamped on the protective metal gear, first around her thighs then her knees and finally her shins. Next she tugged on the red leather of her greaves, tightly lacing them up and folding over the light blue fabric collar that displayed the Dalmascan military symbol that had been embroidered in twenty-four karat gold thread at the hem. If it had flashed the late royal family's crest, there would be, no doubt, questions and rumors amongst her ranks that she could not truthfully answer without causing a devastating ruckus. She then quickly forced her feet into the cold armored boots as she stood and attempted to also put on the leather cincture, securing the buckle in front, without trouble.

She adjusted the rest of her uniform that she had already been wearing and had the sudden nagging feeling that she had forgotten something. When she glanced down, she noticed that her wrists were still bare and in need of their protective leather gauntlets which she quickly plucked a rather worn pair out of the drawer in her nightstand and roughly shoved her hands into the sweaty material. She winced at the sudden burn in her palm when she gloved her injured hand but quickly ignored it as she unsheathed the Platinum dagger still hidden within her armor. Bringing it close, she inspected its cleanliness and when satisfied with its gleam, she replaced it within its proper place. Then she looked to her other shin guard finding its companion missing knowing that its whereabouts were found protruding from the stonewall as she briskly walked by, ripped it out from the grip of the stone's mortar, wiped it clean and slammed it back into its proper place with a loud _'clack'_ resounding into the room.

She came to where her Tournesol lay propped up in the far corner of the room along with a dark mahogany box that brandished a pad lock for only someone with the right key could open. Quickly she hoisted the sheath that contained the large brand. Agilely she grabbed the extremity and pulled it out of its protective sleeve to admire the golden dipped metal. On the broad side of the sword, it wore a thin stream of small diamonds that followed the engravings flowing to its very tip. Though the cut of the blade was a jagged zigzag pattern, it still did its job flawlessly, leaving her foes immensely wounded or worse…dead. The blade was then returned to its leather scabbard, passing Amalia's scrutiny as she then positioned it on to the center of her back, securing the strap in front that held the body long weaponry to her body.

Next she knelt down, examining the keyhole on the pad lock sealing the beautiful wooden box from prying eyes. She pulled the case close to her and then brought her hands up to her neck as she unclasped the thick silver chain of her necklace. The ivory and ruby trinket that it bore hid the key to unlock the protected secret within. After turning the key and removing the lock, she returned the jewelry to the safety of her neck and cracked the lid fully open. There lay two very unique pistols within a bed of royal blue velvet that had been intricately decorated with silver embroidery. Next to the pistols were two specially designed holsters that strapped to the thighs instead of the back or hips and some multi-cartridge clips that couldn't be found at any of the local bazzars.

She delicately ran her fingers over the cool metal of the gun barrel, smiling at the memories that it brought back. She had stayed up late, as her usual, one night a few years back and decided she would go snooping around in the castle hoping to find something that she wasn't already acquainted with. Three hours later led the young princess into the royal treasury room rewarding her with countless trinkets, jeweled dishes and vases, golden statues, mounds of coins, rubies and emeralds, and the mahogany box. It looked like it had been carelessly thrown onto the floor in a hurry because the key for its lock was still lodged into it. Curious, she turned the odd looking key and removed the lock. Slowly she opened the old wooden container and her eyes lit up as she found the two custom created guns, quite similar in structure to the Arcturus but more compact, that it hid. Since the night she had found them she has kept them concealed only until recently, using them in her nightly training rituals, trying to become better accustomed to their feel.

As the memory faded, she buckled one of the black holsters onto each thigh and cursed loudly when she had forgotten of her left leg's trauma, which caused a sharp pain to rocket throughout the limb when the strap had been tightly fastened.

"Damn you Vice," she silently growled.

Finally the pistols were removed from their dark plushy housing and gleamed when the lighting of the room caressed the short stainless steal barrels. She held them both, one in each hand, griping the butt of the guns and the rare pearl plates that were encrusted with a royal insignia she wasn't familiar with. Now standing, she loaded them with the supplied ammunition and slipped them into their positions on the sides of her thighs.

Lastly she walked back to her dresser one more time and produced the ruby and sapphire embellished neck guard, clasping it into position around the neck and on the center of the collarbone. Doing a final check over, she went over to the doorway and turned out the light crystal before she stealthily slipped out of the room. She briskly began to walk toward the Storehouse in Lowtown that would gain her access to the Garamsythe Waterway and her training grounds in the Overflow Cloaca.

* * *

_If you're reading this story you have the time to drop me a reply! If you're reading this note you have the time to drop me a line! If you haven't... well then I pity you:-) j/k _


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey!!!!!!!!! I actually updated!!!! I promise that I'm not dead... I'm well on my way to it though :) I know, its been over a freakin month! I had only a third of this chapter actually written and it took me the whole month to do that little bit too! I just had no time! (Yeah, I know I suck:P) The rest of this chapter I spent the last 24 hours writing it! SO... I am not in the mood for any flames... please XD I hope the lengthy update will make up for any errors within this chapter and for the forever in a day long update. Nothing really important in this one... kind of a bridge chapter and OH OH!! I almost forgot the most important part of this chapter... the long waited arrival of my (oops XD)... our knight in shinning armor, Basch! I honestly hope you read and enjoy it! Also, please review... I need the encouragment:D Also, I can't believe this story has had 1000+ hits!!! Awesome!!_

_landis icelilly_

_**Note:** The sections within the story that are italicized are thoughts or flashbacks/dreams._

_**Discl**: Wow I can actually say that I own something of this story! I own the self created person Zoran. Everything else... the game FFXII and its storyline, the characters of FFXII and Square Enix are not mine! So don't sue!!!_

* * *

Present time…

Still seated on her slimy stone perch in the waterway, Ashe stared off into the blank space in front of her replaying the night's entities in its entirety.

'_How could I have been so stupid?! Why didn't I see it coming?'_ she rattled through her tired thoughts, berating herself for her ignorance as she smashed her face into the palms of her hands once more and winced when she felt the soreness of her injury from the contact.

Meanwhile, she had been so wrapped up within her thoughts that she hadn't heard the pack of Malboro Overkings lurking towards their primary target… her. It wasn't until she caught a whiff of the distinctive bad breath that these creatures where know for, that she propelled herself off of the step just in time to miss a powerful tentacle from smashing into her skull. After diving into a roll to avoid the attack, she stood tall and swiftly removed her Tournesol from its sheath, holding the large menacing blade in her grip. She assessed the situation, as always; finding her competition to be only three of the slimy beasts and instantly began to charge, blade pulled back and ready to swing.

The first Malboro didn't stand much of a chance. Before its foul foggy breath had cleared its sight, Ashe had already brought the sword down, sinking into its wet scaly flesh as the monster let out a gurgled scream. One heavier blow to its head region caused it to slump onto the damp floor, its blood pooling out and filling the cracks and crevasses around the cobblestones. The last two somehow became more aggressive after they witnessed one of their allies perish to this intruder and began to advance on her. Ashe stood watching as the two slithered into a position so that they were surrounding her and waited, but not long, for they both swung a meaty, slime-dripping tentacle in her direction seconds later. Instantaneously, Ashe dropped to the ground barely missing the ambush and pivoted the sword around her body, slashing all of the oozing arms from the rest of their mutated torsos. She remained crouched to the stone floor as she was bathed in a shower of arterial blood and stench as they both cried their lasts breaths before surrendering to their deaths.

When the echoing screams diminished she rose to inspect the motionless corpses that surrounded her feet and promptly examined the brand in her hand watching the dark red liquid collect at the tip and then, somehow satisfactorily, drip off. She felt her heart pound within her chest from the adrenaline, blood rushing through her arteries and veins, giving her the feeling that she loved to feel… Alive. For reasons that couldn't be explained, her lust to see the sticky red substance shed by her blade brought her back to life. The exhilarating intensity would consume her whole, as she would continue to exploit her skill. This was always the way of it during these nightly training escapades in hopes that one day it will be Vayne in place of these sewer animals she toyed with now.

Lowering the heavy blade to her side, she began to stealthily waltz over to the gated entrance of the Central Waterway Control where she faintly heard a series of screeches within. Surely the dying calls of the felled Malboros would have alerted the many other creatures that infested these parts to the oncoming danger that threatened them. Quietly she creaked open the rusty iron gate finding the source of the chatter as she slipped into the enormous waterway. There in front of her hovered two very intrigued Garchimacera. Caught off guard, they turned and looked at their hume predator with bewilderment.

A fierce grin was plastered on her features as Ashe hastily advanced on the ugly winged beasts, twirling the massive sword within her right hand. Almost as soon as the thing opened its mouth to let out a warning cry, it was greeted with the bite of her bloodied brand, silencing the horrific melody. The same fate was soon rewarded to the other, for when it tried to offer cover to its fallen friend; Ashe merely yanked the brand out of its sternum and propelled it into the heart of its protector, rendering it dead.

She leisurely withdrew her bloodstained sword out of the pile of flesh and bones decorating the ground and froze when she heard the clanking footsteps from a pair of thick armored plated boots contacting the stone from behind her.

'_Damn! Who could that be?'_ she rapidly pondered as she darted down the small path, hastily concealing her body behind the pillars of the northeast floodgate. With her head pressed back against the damp column, Ashe patiently listened to the droning of the heavy footfalls that were quickly advancing closer to her.

Her adrenaline was still burning within her veins but this time it was different and all too familiar at the same time. The feeling wasn't a rush of boiling heat but that of a frostbitten cold that seared throughout her limbs. Ashe squeezed her lids tightly shut and willed herself to calm her breathing pattern. Not feeling to keen on this new sensation of hers, she mentally tried to shake herself of it. Suddenly she heard the clanking steps come to a stop directly opposite of her on the other side of the stone support and her sleep deprived eyes shot open, scanning the area around her for the imposter that interrupted her.

* * *

"_What is this?" questioned a confused sixteen-year-old short haired blonde as his equally short blonde headed twin brother handed him a makeshift wooden sword… er…well more like a paddle, but it would make do._

"_Your sword, dummy!" his twin insisted as he shoved the handle into the brother's open hand._

"_Noah, why do I have—"_

"_Basch, Basch," his brother tisked, "You know well that I had the handicapped blade last match so it is only fair that you wield it this round."_

_He let out a low growl and thought of how he could wipe that sneering smirk off his brother's face without getting into that much trouble with their mother. _

"_What? Are you jealous that I have the better sword? Or are you just envious of my more advanced skills?"_

_Basch let out a harsh snort, retorting back, "Hardly. I have no reason to ever desire any of your cocky incompetent traits, brother. Perhaps you're just trying to compensate for something else with that big ego of yours!" _

_He struck a chord on that one and Basch, grinning eagerly, watched as Noah visibly tensed in anger, his knuckles turning white when he increased his grip on the wooden hilt._

_Through gritted teeth Noah scathed, "Perhaps I should receive compensation for having to put you six feet under!"_

_Chuckling at his empty words, Basch calmly stated back, "Your threats always put me at ease, dear brother!"_

_At that, the two, very hard headed boys, engaged in their rage infused sparing, with Noah making all the usual predicted swings and Basch patiently waiting out his barrage as he parried most of his attacks. Sometimes these heated confrontations could last for hours on end as they each would try to push their limits farther than the other could. They mostly ended with the two becoming so exhausted that they would collapse to the ground panting to catch their breaths and ultimately declaring it as a tie subject to a rematch._

* * *

A sudden chill crept up his spine from the abrupt breeze that had made its way through the cavernous corridors of the solitary confinement ward that lay hidden inside the Nalbina Dungeons. The abrupt jolt from the air whipping past his bruised skin brought him out of his usual reverie. Basch felt, as his body made an effort to generate as much heat as it could to intersect the cold, the burning sensation of his deteriorated muscles, which screamed for any mercy he could bring them. 

But none had ever came for those two whole years, so why should any come now?

He had been imprisoned in a damn birdcage, shackled and fettered to hang about on display for no one but the bleak, mist infused darkness that surrounded him. His iron cuffs bit harshly into the clammy white skin of his wrists and ankles, sending droplets of blood dripping down his arms and feet whenever he would move. Just as uncomfortable, his neck and shoulders had been craned to fit within the iron guillotine-like contraption that had propped his arms upward like a caught fugitive, which was also tethered to the dome of his cage. He had been sentenced to play the role of a chained up chocobo in this sick little game of theirs and at times like this, he desperately wished he had been executed instead.

Upon admittance to this hellhole, Basch had been stripped of everything that clothed his body save for a pair of thickly lined pants and the pendant that he wore around his neck, symbolizing the old Dalmascan Order that he had once grew strong in. He had been agonizingly beaten and lashed several times by the lesser Imperial guards who had specific orders from his one and only twin brother, Noah or now known as the greatly feared Judge Magister Gabranth. How he had ever received such a high position, in Archadia of all places, was beyond Basch's knowing, but never once had he developed the searing hatred toward his brother as Noah had for him. He was a man filled with vengeance now caused by Basch's own selfish mistake.

Basch shivered violently as the weakness residing within his muscular tissue wrecked havoc on his body causing it to twitch and spasm uncontrollably, surging pain through out his limbs. A hoarse groan escaped his pale, dry, chapped lips as he wrenched the eyelids of his icy blue orbs shut, fighting hard against his anguish. He reopened them when he was momentarily granted a break in the cold breeze, giving his body a much-needed rest until the next gust howled through. His breaths were somewhat labored as everything throbbed with each gasp of air he took in, feeling his body begin to shut down from the stress. As his eyes became heavy, he stared through the thick iron bars into the dark abyss looking for something; anything… but found only the swirling mist that would eventually twist his mind into insanity. Basch finally gave up letting the weighted lids droop close, surrendering to his body's plea for sleep as his mind, once again, forced images of the past to reel through his dreams.

_

* * *

Smoke was barreling throughout the once clear night sky, consuming every twinkling star within its ashy depths. Blood curdling screams of men, women and children alike, could be heard from as far away as Nabradia, if they only listened, as they ran around trying to put the flames out that were burning their beloved homeland. The stench of hume flesh, wood and the fatty tissue of their livestock, as it burned was a smell that no one should ever have to endure. The foul odor was so intense that it seared itself into everyone's senses, letting no one forget that horrid night… the night Landis fell._

_Franticly, Basch and Noah, now twenty, both ran their fastest towards the farm home on the outskirts of town that they had grown up in. It had been set ablaze by orders of the Empire, much like the rest of the town, to enforce the Archadian occupation and bring fear to those who would even think of rebelling against them. _

_Kicking down the half charred door, Noah tried to find an accessible path through all the rubble that was blazing within to find their parents but was unsuccessful when one of the main supports gave out. Basch stood a few feet back when he heard the crackling sound of the beam breaking loose causing what was left of the wooden structure to visibly weaken and start to collapse. _

"_Noah! Look out!" Basch yelled as he bolted toward his brother, knocking him out of the way onto the ground, just in time as the rest of the supports crumpled to the ground, leveling the house._

_He angrily shoved Basch's arm off of him and sat there in a daze as he watched his childhood, his family and his home, smolder into nothing._

"_No! Those bastards are going to pay for what they have done!" he roared as he stood, turned and stormed past his brother still sitting on the grass, drawing his Mithril Sword for combat. _

_Basch remained seated as he numbly stared into the hell fires that had just consumed his world. He was supposed to have been home finishing his chores of the day but he had had other plans on his mind that were of far greater importance to him than some childish tasks, so he had ignored them and his mother's threats of punishments. But he never expected that this would be his consequence for abandoning his responsibilities._

"_I'm sorry," was all that he could whimper._

_Suddenly, the clanking of metal meeting metal came into earshot and he jumped when he remembered Noah running toward the center of town with his brand drawn._

"_You stupid, arrogant fool!" he muttered to himself as he glanced behind him to find Noah engaged in battle with five Imperial swordsmen. He was clearly out numbered but that didn't matter to him as his anger swelled. _

_Basch sprung up from his place on the ground, unsheathing his own Mithril Sword, but before he could reach the havoc, a massive blow to the back of the head struck down Noah. The sights brought Basch to a screeching halt as he witnessed his only brother, his only family felt, fall to the enemy. _

_Noah looked up in a daze at Basch and saw the fear envelop his normally strong and fearless façade, as he was roughly taken captive._

"_Basch… don't leave me, damn it," he whispered into the smoky air as he witnessed his brother's mental struggle. _

"_Let me go, bastards! I will never bow down to the Emp--!" he fought back but was cut short when a steel plated boot came into contact with his abdomen several times and he closed his eyes in anguish. In the next second Noah had reopened them; he was rewarded with Basch's retreating figure as he fled from his family, from Landis and worst of all… from him._

"_You will pay for leaving me Basch! You hear me?! You coward!" Noah blared angrily before something cold and hard collided with the back of his neck causing him to black out. His body slumped, face first, into the dew covered ground unconscious before the surrounding Imperial soldiers dragged his heavy muscled body off._

_Aware that he was leaving everything he had ever known and ever stood for behind, Basch continued to run, never hearing his brother's harsh words that had filled the air. Running as far away from the destruction, the stench and the horrid aftermath that the Empire wrought on the poor town, but mostly from his own mistakes._

* * *

Letting out a startled gasp, Basch quickly snapped his eyes open when he felt the sudden convulsing jerks of his hanging tomb coming to life. He still saw noting but the cold darkness for some time but he could distinctly hear the clanking and chattering of the iron links working through the steel pulleys as it hoisted the prison cell upward. The cell jerked violently whenever one of the links would enter the pulley track incorrectly causing Basch's restrained gauntlets to dig even deeper into the already marred and bloody flesh underneath, eliciting another stifled groan from his lips. 

After what seemed like an hour, he began to see the faint surroundings of his dark cell. It was mostly constructed with endless large sand colored cement blocks that had been crumbling away from years of damage and erosion, leaving huge pits and holes within the structure's walls. When he looked upward, nothing was distinguishable to his weary eyes as he blinked a few times to try and clear his vision, but it still remained a blurry bright white fog. His head pounded from the ascent as the air pressure around him greatly decreased and the lighting of the dungeon above became more vivid to his senses.

Curiosity plagued Basch's mind as he pondered about what visitors or the treatment that awaited him this time, but he would have to suffer the sarcastic suspense until he reached his destination. There, he knew that only his brother or some low life scum of a soldier's face would appear in his eyesight to carelessly drag him off to that blasted '_pit_' in the center of the fortress basement where he would be tightly chained to the stone wall for entertainment. He would be left defenseless and utterly helpless against the foul burly Seeqs, clubs and maces in hand, ready to pummel him into oblivion with shear enjoyment.

Their horrid odor and the thick sludgy drool pouring out from between the rotted yellow canines when they talked, was gross enough to even make the strongest of stomachs retch up every last drop of acid within the vital organ. He had done it on several accounts upon his first year. But as this ritual became a constant event, he had grown accustomed to the stench and had learned to control the bodily reaction brought on by the nauseating slime that would splatter on his face as they verbally threatened him before the thrashing.

Afterwards, he would awake in tremendous amounts of pain and would come to find that his battered body had been returned to its previous predicament inside his cell. He would never have any recollections of the exchange since they would knock him unconscious to begin with and frankly, he never really wanted to be able to remember it anyways. It would only accumulate more to the many memories of his lifetime of failures that, on a daily bases, haunted his thoughts and dreams.

He had lived a life destined to failure. He had failed so many people and had wondered why those who were now lost, had ever put that much trust within him and within his abilities. They surely had been crazy or just had no fear of meeting their early demise.

Sighing heavily, Basch mentally listed everyone that he had let down and everything he had forsaken.

'_For not being able to save my friends.'_

'_For not being strong enough to save my family.'_

'_For being too disobedient and not listening to my parents to protect them.' _

'_For being too weak to save Noah.' _

'_For being a coward and running away from Landis.' _

'_For not being physically capable to prevent the fall of Nalbina Fortress.' _

'_For my inability to swiftly destroy the enemy and prevent any harm to Lord Rasler.' _

'_For my ignorance of the grave danger and hostile situation of the Treaty signing, leading to my failure to protect the life of not only His Royal Majesty, King Raminas but also that of my squadron.' _

'_For letting down Vossler and his high expectations of my abilities.' _

'_And then that leaves the greatest failure of all…' _

Slowly Basch raised his head and closed his eyes tightly when he felt the harsh pang emanating from within his chest. The suddenness of his heartache knocked the air right out of his lungs and left him gasping. He reacted in the same manner every time it replayed within his mind and every time the guilt would strike him harder than the last.

"Lady Ashelia," he whispered into the air for no one.

He had failed her so many times that he would have to grow more fingers and toes to count them on. But the one thing he never could understand was why, after countless falters, she could still have faith in him and give him her full trust, never once second guessing his decision in anything.

'_But why?'_

He knew naught and never would gain the chance to find out, for she had taken her own life shortly after he had been sentenced to his death. Word of her suicide had reached him by means of a less than reliable Imperial Soldier, which the news had caused him great sorrow but also distrust in the genuineness of his information. The way he felt about the incident after it had finally sunk in, was making him believe that she really wasn't dead but very much still alive and maybe that this stunt was just a smoke screen to keep her guarded from falling into the hands of Vayne. That, if it should ever happen, would be the ultimate demise of Dalmasca. Hopefully she had been hidden somewhere so that the last of her royal bloodline could be protected and kept safe from harm until Dalmasca could be restored to its former glory, but that was all he could do was hope. Hope that none of rumors he had heard floating around this pig sty weren't anymore true than the last.

Really, the only thing he had desired and wished for these two years past, was to see that innocent, but at the very same time, devious smile that she only reserved just for him. It made him feel warm inside knowing that she shared a special bond with only him. It was something totally different from the bond she had grown up with and shared between her parents, something completely foreign to anything he had ever experienced and though he cherished every single moment of it, he was also terrified of the strange chill that ran up his spine every time, in its wake.

Subconsciously, his body had started trembling when he recalled the unfamiliar sensations he would experience in her presence when she would flash him _his_ smile and mentally shook himself to stop the repetitive images from flooding into his forethoughts.

* * *

"_Kwek" cooed the happy white-feathered chocobo as it was fitted with its saddle and bridle at that moment._

_A childish giggle was heard escaping the small lips of an energetic platinum blonde youth as she held her hand full of greens up to the beautiful beast. Its beak tickled her palm as it ate the delicious treat bringing about more giggles from her._

"_What's so funny, your Highness?" questioned a very strong and well built, twenty-three year old Basch, as he finished tightening the chest and belly straps of the saddle. He was clad in the usual bland Dalmascan armor that was issued to all entry-level soldiers but it would soon be replaced by the new black and silver etched Grand Armor that was awarded only to those who had proven themselves worthy of being promoted to the title of 'Captain'. It was to be presented to him later that eve, at the fete, which Dalmasca was hosting for the arrival of the Nabradian royal family, to make his title official. But until then he would perform his new duties as Princess Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca's personal bodyguard, as if the armor he wore now meant nothing to define his stature._

"_Nothing Basch," she giggled again._

"_Must be something… did you put chocobo feathers in my hair again?" he teased quirking an eyebrow and grinning at the confident and brash seven year old Dalmascan princess standing beside him. She wore a white, knee length sundress that was accented with an intricate blue floral design, which had been flawlessly embroidered into the cotton fabric. Also, to complete the outfit, there was a pair of flat white dress sandals covering her bare feet that, at the moment, had collected quite a bit of straw and dirt within them from the chocobo stalls. Her shoulder length platinum blonde hair had been neatly combed and was held back out of her tanned porcelain face by a blue headband that adorned a small crystal butterfly on it. _

_Giggling once more, she flashed him a genuine, innocent toothy smile that she only showed just for him and replied, "No silly, Snowy was tickling my hand when he ate his treat. But can I put Snowy's feathers in you hair again? Please Basch?"_

_She was grinning from ear to ear with excitement at the thought. _

"_Not tonight your Highness," he answered, not knowing why he felt a strange chill climbing his spine from that smile of hers, but she gave him a frowning look as she crossed her arms over her chest pouting._

"_I don't like it when you call me that! Remember?!"_

"_I'm sorry…Ashelia," he tried._

"_No…" she countered still with her arms crossed and turned opposite from him._

"_Then what does m'lady wish to be called by?"_

"_Ashe," she stated proudly, letting some of that spoiled royalness come out as she defiantly turned back around to face the soldier._

"_Ok, Ashe it is," Basch chuckled as he watched her display, slightly amused._

"_That's better, thank you," Ashe replied politely but with that special devious smile of hers._

"_Your welcome. Now are you ready to ride Snowy out to the Giza Plains?"_

_There was that damn chill again and somehow it felt… different, to him._

"_Yes!" she almost shouted as she jumped up and down in excitement._

"_Up you go," Basch grinned as he easily lifted her up and gently placed her upon the saddled chocobo. He handed her the reins and instructed her to wait until he mounted his own armored pedigree steed before she could continue. While she patiently waited for the young knight to unhitch the large bird, she intently watched him and pondered about a certain question that she had once heard in a fairytale book that she had been read to at bedtime. This particular tale involved a young and gorgeous princess who fell in love with a strong and handsome Knight in shinning armor after she had been taken prisoner by some evil monster and he had come to save her from harm. But there was one part at the end of the story that she really liked but didn't fully understand the true meaning behind the words that the two, lovingly, exchanged. Her comprehension levels at that age where only elementary. _

_A deep gruff voice filled her ears and snapped her out of her daydreaming._

"_Ready, your Highn-- … uh…Ashe?" Basch questioned, catching his blunder a bit too late but it seemed that the Lady Ashe hadn't noticed since her eyes had a far off look about them._

"_Huh? Oh!" she fumbled._

_He raised an eyebrow in concern, "Is everything alright?"_

_She looked at him shyly and then looked down to her clasped hands debating to ask her silly question._

"_Basch, can I request something of you?" _

_The words out of her mouth were so pure and innocent, which suited her, but it was the fact that she looked and sounded so… vulnerable, that unnerved him. This did not suit her well at all._

"_Yes, you may. What does the Lady Ashe request?" he encouraged with a small gentle smile. _

_She visibly relaxed but her young voice still remained timid._

"_Promise me that you will never leave me," she asked holding his shocked gaze steady with her own. _

"_What do you mean?" he blurted out in astonishment and confusion. He didn't really know how to answer her inquiry and he wasn't sure if she really knew the depth, the full definition, of what she had just voiced to him._

"_Listen to me Basch!" she demanded, "I want you to promise me that you will never leave me! That you promise to save and protect me from anything! And if we ever get separated, you will come and find me! Promise?!"_

_He still didn't know how to answer and remained dumfounded to this conversation's origin. He looked at her with the same expressions as before, trying hard to read her own facial expressions to determine the seriousness of her suit._

"_Please," she faintly whispered._

_That was all she had to say to him to make his heart ache and melt all at the same time. He didn't know how she did it, but she had successfully snuck beneath his hard shell, breaking his strong and valiant will, reducing him to nothing more than something resembling a soft and plushy teddy bear._

_Basch was helpless to escape her pleading gaze. He quickly plastered an awkward smile on his face and nodded in acceptance of her requisition but it wasn't enough._

"_No, I want to hear you say it, Basch," she begged._

_He let out a shaky breath and steeled himself to at least appear like the valiant soldier he should be right now and regain some of his pride. He only thanked the Gods that no one else had witnessed his minor glitch._

_She stared at him patiently and finally he had gain enough of his nerve back to tell her what she wanted to hear._

"_I promise you, Princess Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca, that I, Captain or not, Basch fon Ronsenburg, will never leave you without my protection and safety under any circumstance, until the very day I die. And if we are ever separated by any matter, I promise that I will risk my own life to insure the safety of your own. You have my oath sworn word, your Highness." _

"_Thank you… Basch," she uttered as he watched a single tear escape her eyes and trickle down her soft cheek. A seven year old shouldn't be so keen to this type of emotion, but she was, which showed that she was more mature and definitely no ordinary seven year old girl. But as rapid as the situation had been brought forth, it had been easily dismissed by Ashe's; once again, lighthearted giggles as she spurred the chocobo forward leaving Basch behind in bewilderment upon his own._

* * *

"What do ya mean we're not invited?!" barked the accent of an Archadian solider in the near distance. 

"It's like I said! I'm not stuttering you nimrod! We're not invited to the fete in Dalmasca, alright?!" retorted another annoyed voice.

"Did Captain even say why?"

"Are you really that stupid?!" the second one almost yelled in disbelief.

"No! Why are you callin me stupid?!"

"Because! Have you forgotten that we are all _on duty_ that night?!"

"Where?" the first solider snapped in disbelief.

"By the Gods you are dumb! Did you even look at the syllabus in the office?"

"Syllabus? What in the hell is that?"

Suddenly a loud growl was heard escaping the second soldier's throat as a high pitched, girly shriek left the other's mouth when he angrily grabbed the first soldier's metal collar. The next sound that could be heard was most likely a metal gloved punch meeting the side of the other's iron helmet and then the heavy smack as the unconscious body hit the cement floor.

"I can't stand working with stupid fucking idiots!" grumbled the irate soldier.

'_Well shit,'_ Basch sarcastically thought to himself, _'what's it going to be today?'_

The contraption still groaned as it worked hard to pull the heavy iron structures through the gears but as Basch observed his environment this time, he was only a few meters from his destination, forced to patiently wait, mostly because he couldn't do much else.

"Zoran!" bellowed the pissed Imperial.

"Yes, sir?" answered a very timid voice.

"Will you get this damn idiotic fool out of my sights, please!" he ordered harshly.

"Y- Yes, sir!" the submissive soldier replied.

"You are dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

Next he could hear the audible scraping of the knocked out soldier's armor as he was being dragged away.

Finally, the cage's movement came to a jerking halt and Basch's blood shot eyes looked up and peered deep into the dark and hollow ones that were hidden deep within the Imperial's helm, challenging him to make the first move. He rolled up one side of his upper lip in a displeased snarl toward the rather cocky soldier but was hastily dismissed by the man's rather amused snort.

"You don't intimidate me, traitor!" boasted the Imperial, "By the looks of you… you wouldn't even be able to stand, much less engage with an experienced Archadian soldier!"

"Hmm, that much might be very true at this moment. I'll give you that, but if I was some Imperial scum, and thank the Gods I'm not… I would be watching my back in the future," Basch calmly retorted, holding back his amusement.

"Watch _my_ back? Ha! If anyone of us needs to be worrying about that, it should be you. You are the King slayer, are you not! I think the bounty upon your head is rather large if I'm not mistaken," the soldier rattled on, but Basch could care less about what was actually coming out of his trap.

An arrogant smirk became quite evident on his face which caused the piece of Imperialist swine in front of him, to stop in mid-sentence rather annoyed and question, "What in Ivalice are you grinning about?!"

Basch let a chuckle slip his throat as he boldly replied, "Nothing really. I'm just getting the impression that your gruff is really nothing but a bunch of frilly fluff."

He leaned his upper body as close as his shackles would allow to the iron bars, cocking his head rather smugly to the right as he sneered, "I think for someone being as egotistical as you, they would have something to hide. So, I wonder, pig, what is it that you are trying to compensate for?"

The metal gloves of the Imperial soldier's armor tightly clenched themselves into frustrated fists and they began to shake with anger.

"Why you!" he growled but was interrupted by the clanking of armor behind him as the laden footsteps intensified and another muffled voice began to boomed from behind the horned helm.

"That is enough! Don't let this churl work you! It is a fool's errand if you choose to engage in his banter!" warned the all too familiar tone of the Judge.

"Yes sir!" he saluted hurriedly.

"Leave us."

"Yes sir."

Basch was moderately gratified by the quick and sudden change in the soldier's attitude toward his superior. Once overconfident and very much a smart ass, he was now reduced to something with the equivalent importance of a piece of old chewing gum on the ground. With his ego instantly shattered before him, he quickly retreated out of the Solitaire Confinement Ward and back into the safety of the Black Watch corridors.

Only then, when the Judge knew that the area was devoid of activity, did he properly acknowledge the prisoner hanging before him.

"He will be giving me the compensation I need for when I have to put you six feet under, my dear brother." His voice was emotionless, cold and empty behind the protection of his stainless steel mask. His body seemed much bigger to Basch than what he had remembered. It must have been all the thick layers of protective leathers that fitted beneath the many steel plates making up his decorative caped uniform, he mentally concluded.

"Your vacant words always put me at ease, brother," Basch recited with a smirk, "Perhaps you might grow a pair and actually conquer the task!"

"Basch, please. You know as well as I, that you do not don a pair yourself! I can vouch for that, coward. If you had, then_ you_ would not have abandoned me that night!" Noah scathed in hidden anguish, pointing an accusing finger at his twin.

Basch hung his head in momentary shame and replied, "I was not the fool that chose to assail the bastards or conspire with them either."

Noah released a disgusted snort at the jab.

"I did not come here for this, Basch!" he retaliated rather perturbed.

"Then what did you come here for? I'm sure it wasn't because you missed me."

"Hardly," Noah spat as he walked closer to the railing at the edge of the path that separated him from his brother's cage. He tightly gripped the rails and allowed his upper body to lean over as his arms physically supported him. The empty voids of the mask that replaced his eyes bore intently into what felt like the very depths of Basch's soul.

Basch began to feel quite uncomfortable under his brother's piercing gaze, so he cleared his throat loudly hoping to jar him into his intended purpose of being here.

"Then why grace me with your presence?" he pushed.

Noah released a tired sigh, "The Consul's fete is in two days time, in Rabanastre."

"Hmm."

"I have been informed that there is a minor possibility of an ambush following the start of the festivities."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Basch replied unsure of where this was going.

"Nothing. I thought that you might be able to tell me a little bit about this… Resistance Movement."

Noah was bating him, prying for any scrap piece of meat that could be of use to him. Basch knew nothing of the Movement since it was assembled after his supposed execution, but even if he did, he wouldn't just willingly hand it over to him on a silver platter. He knew better and so did Noah. So why bother to inquire?

"I know nothing of which you speak."

"I figured as much," he breathed taking one last once over of his chained brother. He noticed that his dull flaxen hair and beard were both caked and matted with dirt, grease and probably rotten vomit, plastering the strands against his bruised pale skin. The nasty cut that he bore from the middle of his forehead stretching across his left eyebrow and ending at the base of his left earlobe seemed to still be rather red and showing the signs of an infection beginning to fester within it. It must have been the grime saturating that Seeq's whip, Noah had thought to himself. His scrutiny continued further, falling upon the man's broad shoulders. They, too, were a fiery crimson and grape hue from the multiple beatings and thrashings he had received on a monthly bases and Noah felt the sudden guilt start to well up within him. Angrily, he shrugged the feeling off and lastly took in the sight of Basch's almost protruding ribcage. His body was already showing the indications of his malnutrition and the weakening of his immune system, probably causing the body to exhaust itself from even the simplest of gestures. The almost translucent epidermis pulled tightly around each of the projected ribs, sinking deep into where the crevices were separating the bones. Being within his brother's presence and seeing him in this state was very satisfying to him but also stomach wrenching at the same moment.

He couldn't stand the sensation anymore and swiftly turned to leave the dreaded ward.

"Noah," Basch beckoned to the armored figure retreating into the darkened archway but was dismissed by a wave of his hand and then was no longer visible to him, only the decreasing echoes of his chain mail boots clacking across the rocky landing could be heard.

* * *

_Poor Basch... I love him to death but his life really sucks right now :( I know and I'm sorry if any of the characters in pervious chapters and in future chapters seem a bit out of charater but that can't really be helped due to the way I write. Its kind of hard to keep someone who spoke very little within the game in character when you want him to say so much within the story. So I'm sorry in advance for later chapters. I'm so freakin tired now... this chapter really took the life out of me and don't know why... maybe its because nothing really happened in it? I dunno._

_I would be extremely ecstatic if you would drop me a review... even if you have never left one before... please do! I need all the encouragement that I can get so that I will get this next chapter out faster! I thrive on them! XD_


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** _Ok, I have somethings to say. First I'm going to say I'm sorry like a million times for the month long wait for this update. My life has been... well lets just put it as insane... lately. I will say it now that I am sorry for any and all errors... I have spent the past two days typing this with only one hand. It's kind of hard to type let alone fast with about a 100 stitches tattooing your forearm. It sucks... I'm also blaming my errors on the week's worth of painkillers, the 20 or so cups of coffee and the lack of being able to keep down food. I also think I just ripped a stitch out trying to type this with two hands... ouch!_

**To Sita Silver-Breeze:**_ I wish you the best of luck and I thank you tremdously for your support and listening to me:) I greatly admire your work and so when you presistently argue with me (lol) about how much better my work is than yours, I feel ecstatically flattered! But I still think your writing is FAR better than mine:D_

**To Earisu & Laguna's twin sister:**_ I thank you two also for being such great supporters and reading/reviewing thus far! I always love to read them... they give me the motivation I need! _

_Lastly I would like to mention the fact that this story has reached 1400+ hits and I somehow only managed to receive TWO reviews for the last chapter!!! I know I'm asking for a lot but come on! Give a crippled writer a break and review... PLEASE!!! I'll review your story if you review mine:D But I do send my thanks to those that do read and review and to those who only read... I'm greatful to know that you are at least reading this! Ok enough of my naive whining and on with the SUPER LONG 10,000+ word chapter!! By the Gods this took me forever to write! Enjoy!_

_landis icelilly_

* * *

Patiently, in a ten by twelve foot room, Ashe fiercely paced the stony floor in anticipation for why she had been so rudely sought after. She was strung out enough as it was that night and she honestly didn't need anything else to add to it. She knew not why her presence was needed and it irked her to think that whenever she had a chance to unwind or blow off some steam, she couldn't. There always had to be something that got in the way and tonight would be one of them. 

She cursed silently to herself about Vossler's little stunt and how it was one of many that he would pull just so that she didn't forget that she wasn't in that much control now, that one little slip up could cost them a greater disaster than now. His constant surveillance made her feel caged and violated because she had little to no privacy or time to herself.

Inevitably chained to his unwavering eye by an invisible leash that could only be stealthily slipped from in the dark hours of twilight.

Such a night was one of those escapes except Vossler had found another means of tightening the reins on her, she had thought to herself. All she had hoped and wished for, her childhood dreams of being free and disimprisoned from the chokehold of her royal stature, if only for a day she would bargain, were never within arms reach. She was an untamed Firemane that was to be sure, but was unfortunately born into the blasted fetters and reins of her aristocratic family heritage, pushed to and fro between embroidery and etiquette lessons to social banquettes and grand balls where she performed the well behaved puppet for her mother and father. It didn't matter how far she tried to run or where she tried to hide from this colossal burden. It didn't matter what corridor she avoided and what corner she did turn, it was always there, waiting to smack her dead in the face with the reminder of her destiny. She could not and would never be able to escape the crushing, bone breaking clamps that constricted her to the throne.

But Ashe knew her pleas and complaints were useless to anyone's ears, mainly her own, because as much as she wanted to throw away her crown for her freedom she couldn't bare seeing her family's kingdom tossed out to the streets with it. She was the last of her royal bloodline, the dynast-king's blood coursed her veins and she was like a diamond in the ruff, more valuable than gil itself. She couldn't disgrace her majestic lineage; it would only break her heart more knowing that she gave up everything, her lands, her people, but mostly her hope of ever bringing liberation to Dalmasca.

She would always berate herself; sometimes screaming, for thinking the way she did about her situation; she had a duty to perform to her country just like Vossler and his men had an obligation to protect her and her people. They gladly took their oaths knowing the consistent strain of the heavy burdens they would endure, something she greatly admired in them. Their unwavering strength and the constant belief of hope bringing them through every obstacle the Gods smothered the poor souls in was a trait that she seriously lacked. She could feel her hope drain from her heart daily, she could feel every single ounce of strength that remained inside waver, but she knew that her people and her soldiers wouldn't believe in a pessimistic Princess, let alone a Queen.

That is why for two achingly long years, Ashe had carefully sculpted and crafted the perfect mask, one of pure strength and determination with no cracks or chips to weaken her faith in the circumstances. For two long years she had worn this beautiful façade without falter, gaining respect and admiration from her comrades, but recently she was beginning to sense the slight crumbling of her guise around the edges. Soon it would shatter, without the slightest warning and everything she fought so hard to withhold from the piercing gazes would be spilled onto the floor in front of her, no longer a secret. That day would come, she knew, but Ashe seriously hoped it wasn't anytime soon.

That is also why, for those two grating years, that she sought out for a release of her own pent up frustrations, something to prevent her shell from further cracking. An outlet where she could channel all the anger and sorrow that threatened to break her on an hourly bases and put it toward a better use such as broadening her swordsmanship or strengthening her battle strategies to her advantage. Her weary heart was in need of a distraction from her own chronic worrying and ceaseless anxiety for it might have became nothing more than a shredded piece of crimson silk that blew helplessly in the Dalmascan breeze with no reason or rhyme anymore.

The answer to her problems resulted in her twilight excursions to the Garamsythe Waterways where she could be free, if only for a few hours, from the nagging chatter of her squadrons and her guardian's habitual griping about what she was being ignorant of.

This idea of hers had worked out perfectly… until tonight.

Vossler seemed to have been itching for a way to keep her under check, especially after the trouble she had blatantly stumbled into this eve and this had been why, she remembered, that poor guard had been aimlessly searching the sewer ways.

She had been hiding behind that cold wet pillar fearing that an Imperial had heard her exchanges between the Malboros and chose to seek the noise out. But to her relief, he was the exact opposite of an Imperial, he was a member of the Resistance fleet but her realization had came too late for the mostly tall and lanky soldier had been brutally slung up against the wall before she could stop her advance. The back of his head had violently hit the stone and rendered him unconscious as he slid off the impediment into a heap at her metal boots.

Cursing Vossler's name, she had checked the condition of the knocked out soldier and with a steady brisk walk, she drug the limp body by his ankles, back the trail she had traveled to enter the Waterway, to the hideout in Lowtown.

Upon nearing the hidden facility, she had seen a six-foot bulky figure impetuously pacing the grounds out front. It was Vossler, looking slightly disgruntled when he had looked up to acknowledge her approaching presence. He had given her a hasty once over and quickly morphed his peeved look into something resembling an ironic amusement when she had pulled the unconscious body in front of him and dropped it at his feet.

She had continued to walk past him but stated over her shoulder perturbed, "I would have hired someone more challenging, Captain."

This had only warranted an amused snort from him followed by the strict instructions to wait in the Briefing Room, which she had stubbornly obeyed.

After pacing the parameters of the small room for over a half hour, Ashe finally decided to rest her tired aching legs from the distressful march and took the opportunity to examine the shabby chamber. It really didn't have much of a regal or classy feel to it; rather, it was the complete contrary of the palace's Military quarters. Within the palace, there had been a grand display of golden-framed priceless works of art and multiple streams of blue velvet banners against a cream background. There had been finely cultured black marbled floors that were polished on a daily bases, regardless of the room's usage, that glistened in the light sparkling from the exquisite crystal chandelier. Its positioning had been crucial to the effectiveness of the military briefings and debriefings with its place directly above the holographic fourth scale diagram of Ivalice that projected upon the sturdy Feywood table, which had been conveniently placed in the center of the large spacious room.

She missed being in those luxuries even though she was never involved in the tactical side of maintaining a kingdom, but nonetheless she still craved for the comfort of being home.

But this place she aimlessly paced in now was not homey at all, it only bore the marred and blemished plaster walls with nothing about them but the tacky white paste reminding her vaguely of oatmeal after it had sat out for too long and had gotten cold and glue-like. The floors here were dirty and had been caked with so much dried mud that she couldn't even distinguish whether it was created with stone or nothing at all. And much to her displeasure, the lighting wasn't even strong enough to illuminate the entire room, only just enough of the rays were able to fully encompass the small rectangular table that was situated slightly off center of the doorway. But to her surprise, when she applied her full body's weight as she leaned against the counter, the worn and water marked piece did not collapse at the pressure, even though it looked as if it were to crumble at any moment. So she chose to prop herself up against the cold wood as she continued to wait, growing increasingly impatient by the second.

Thankfully it wasn't too much longer before she was greeted with the appearance of a refreshed but fuming Vossler as he stormed through the doorway, causing Ashe to quickly snap her head in his direction when the door mildly slammed shut.

"Where in the hell were you?! We are in a state of emergency here and you act as if naught matters to you!" he roared as he pointed the piece of rolled up parchment in his hand accusingly at her.

"Voss—," she tried calmly but he was too infuriated to let her get in edgewise. He had to get everything that was angering him off his chest right now before he did something unthinkable and regret it later, even though he was already doing something that was unimaginable and he would ultimately regret his actions afterwards.

"No!"

'_What?!'_ She was livid now, as her stormy blue eyes grew wide.

"What possessed you to leave your quarters at an hour like this?! And why are you soaked in blood?! Where have you been?!" Vossler raved as he used his arms to emphasize his argument.

'_Is he telling _me_, Princess Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca, NO?! Did I seriously hear him right? He told me fucking NO!' _

Her blood began to boil as he continued his verbal onslaught oblivious to her reactions.

"Vo—"

He held up his hand to silence her this time but the meaning behind it was still just the same as her infuriation finally bubbled over.

'_That's fucking _IT_!'_ She screamed mentally as she stiffened her whole body.

Quickly, she stormed up into Vossler's face, swinging her right hand wide and sending it back across his left cheek with the force of a ton of bricks, snapping his head brutally to the right. He held it there, instantly realizing his career-threatening mistake by over stepping his bounds, letting the burning sensation throb through the flesh and tissue as he berated himself for his absurd choice of action. He could feel the amount of tension and anger that was coursing through her veins as it easily radiated off her body and into the now stuffy room.

Her breaths came out in short hasty huffs when she fumed in front of him, feeling the exhale brushing the exposed skin of his left arm.

"You _will not_ disgrace me to my face _again_, Captain!"

The words left her lips like daggers, sharp and dangerous, as the rest of her features contorted into disgust for the soldier. She patiently waited for his response as her steadfast gaze remained on him. She quickly noticed the sorrowful look creeping upon his face but he only kept it visible to her for mere seconds before the stoic mask was hastily plastered over to replace it.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke in an emotionless tone, "I have received grave news. One of our spies has intercepted a letter, earlier this morning, which was sent from the Archadian Emperor himself reporting the departure of his son, Vayne Carudas Solidor. His destination is intended to be Dalmasca, well Rabanastre to be more precise. Furthermore, in two days time, he plans on hosting a fete honoring his arrival and self election to be Dalmasca's Consul," Vossler finished as he slowly turned his now bruised face toward the Princess who was very much intrigued with this new turn of events.

She slowly crossed her arms, letting them come to rest just above her chest as she pondered about the situation.

"A fete, you say? He is rather the cocky bastard if he thinks he can celebrate this early in the game," she retorted in a mumbling tone, instantly forgetting the painful throb in her hand form her actions seconds earlier.

A thoughtful expression covered her as she contemplated the best scenarios that would give them a greater advantage and kick Vayne off his royal perch at the same time.

"What is your course of action," she blurted out into the room, never turning to face him.

"We ambush them. We advance through the courtyard and attack just after the introduction of the fete," he replied in a monotone, still devoid of any emotion.

"Good. Brief the rest of the squadrons and I shall consort with you later on the final details," she regally stated as she began her march toward the exit.

"A word, please?" Vossler asked quietly knowing that what he was going to ask of her would be chewed up and bitterly spat back into his face, like everything else he had suggested her to do.

"Yes?" she stopped in mid step and turned to face him with an eyebrow slightly raised.

Taking a deep breath he continued, "Might I suggest your absences in this plan?"

Her eyes began to narrow into slits, "What are you trying to propose, Vossler?"

"You are an important key to this whole operation. If you should participate and be killed or taken captive, then this plight of ours is meaningless. Let us fight for you until the time comes for you to rightfully take up your crown and perform your Queenly duties."

He carefully laid the circumstances out for her.

He had to try. They couldn't risk a casualty that great and he had to get her to see the big picture and what her true duty was.

"Nonsense! I will not be made to hide! I can not nor will I stand aside and watch as my soldiers, my people and my kingdom, throw themselves into the devil's belly as slaves!"

"Please Amalia, I beg you to reconsider!" he implored to her with a helpless tone.

"I have made up my mind, Captain. If my people fight for my cause then I shall fight for it too. I will speak with you on this matter again in two days time. I take my leave."

Her last declaration signaled the abrupt end to the discussion as she haughtily faced the archway, showing herself out of the tiny neglected cubicle and into the not much better scenic hallway of the military base.

_

* * *

As the bleak darkness faded into an intensifying vivid white, Ashe slowly began to rise from the hard and chilly metal slab that she rested on, slowly wiping at her eyes to clear the blur. Rapidly a sharp pang shot through her head as she continued to sit upright and she quickly clasped her hands to her head trying to ease her pain. _

_Moments later, the throbbing decreased enough that she could fully open her eyes and look upon her strange surroundings with complete confusion. She scanned the metal room around her finding nothing but the steel slab she sat on and a heavy plated security door to her right. There were no windows or peepholes or anything so that she may peer out and be able to distinguish her location. The only other attribute to the room was the incredibly bright illumination that this steel box harbored, practically blinding her as it reflected off the polished walls. _

'_Where am I?' she asked herself._

'I don't remember leaving Lowtown. Maybe…_' she considered in her head but couldn't finish the thought when the locked door to her side hissed loudly as the air seal was released and the thing slid open. _

_Standing there in the archway was a familiar figure but she couldn't put her finger on it as to where she had remembered this person. Slowly the messy blonde wisps of hair became visible to her under the argent light along with those unforgettable azure irises, but nothing else of his facial features could be made out for they were washed out from the lambent glare._

_He remained unmoving, studying her stance and confused looks._

'_Don't be afraid,' he comforted as his deep voice filled the cubicle, echoing off the structure._

'_I am not afraid!' she retorted back to the unknown man._

'_I know of your pain, your despair, your misery, Ashelia. You may fool everyone around you but you do not fool me or yourself.'_

'_You know nothing of me! How do you claim to know of my tribulations when I don't even know who you are!' she lamented as she rose to her feet but the sudden movement triggered her head to pound with piercing pain and she became unstable in her movements._

'_Wait for me, Ashelia. Let me help you.' _

_Those were his fading words as her eyesight went black, her ears began to ring and her anguish started to pulsate throughout her entire body as she latched onto her head and collapsed to her knees, screaming in agony. Her torment grew greater and greater until suddenly when she thought she could handle it no more… it ended._

Dripping in a cold sweat, Ashe shot upright out of her thinly dressed bed, gripping the sides of her head tightly. Her nightgown was twisted and suctioned to the sweat soaked surface of her body leaving the delicate skin of her legs bare. Breathing hysterically, she was terrified that if she let go her suffering would come back in a rush putting her back into that horrible torture she had been in moments ago.

Hesitating, she swung her legs off the side of the bed and gently released the pressure of her death grip, finding that the pain did not return. With a sigh of relief, she brought one of her hands to her face and weakly ran it through her disheveled locks, pushing the stray strands out of her tired eyes.

"What was that?" she spoke into the damp air.

She shook herself of the eerie feeling that haunted her and lethargically lifted herself to her feet.

It was the morning of the fete and their planned advance. She hoped that all would go well and that nothing went array like it always seemed to do for her. Taking a deep breath, she began her daily routine, though a few hours earlier than normal and prepared herself for the events yet to come.

* * *

The Afternoon of the Fete…

"Squads 3 through 6 are in place." Ashe heard the soldier report hastily in the distance.

"They stand ready. So far the Imperials haven't noticed a thing," he finished as the soldier saluted the Captain, she no doubt could imagine, as she casually sauntered down the waterlogged pathway toward the gathering.

"Then go now and hurry the others," she heard Vossler's gruff voice quietly command, "By nightfall, we must ensure all our men are in place."

"Yes sir!" chorused the group of men as they parted and went their separate ways.

Ashe listened to the jingling footfalls of the eager soldiers as they ran off to execute their orders. Purposely, she scrapped the toes of her metal cased boots noisily along the ground as she ran her hand carelessly against the grooves in the stone slabs when she approached the intersection, warning Vossler of her presences.

Hearing her disturbance, he turned around to witness her airy but rigid prance as she drew near behind him. Her facial features were that of stone, never weathering or chipping, as she presented herself to him.

"Plans are going well, I see," she plainly stated.

"Yes. Almost everyone is in place."

"Then tell me were I am to be stationed so that I may take up my post," she requested as she toyed with the buckle securing the sheath to her body, holding the greatsword to her back.

"You will take up post next to me, just by the entrance near the Palace Cellar Stores," he informed her as he weighed her reaction.

Ashe merely nodded her head in compliance and began her swift retreat to the assigned position in silence.

This floored him because he was usually used to her bickering back to him about her displeasure in his suggestions. Something wasn't right to him but he hadn't the time to interrogate her on the subject as he jogged his way up to her withdrawing figure.

* * *

Some Hours Later…

Her laborious breathes filled her ears alongside the throbbing pounds within her head as the clanking footfalls behind magnified when she bolted down the soggy pathways in search of an escape. Catching a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw in the distance four heavily armored Imperial Soldiers rapidly advancing her coordinates as they shouted for her surrender.

"Stop right there!"

"Halt! You are under arrest!"

"Come back here!"

They all screamed at her but to no avail because she refused to be caught. She did not hide out in a bloody rat infested putrid hole for two years of her life to just throw herself willingly into the fires of hell at the first opportunity. She would make them pay for the things that they had done to her and her family. She would be sure to make them die a slow and horrible death, one similar to what they had bestowed upon her. There would be physical pain she was sure, but what would deal the final blow would be the complete and utter torment and despair that would corrupt and twist their tiny minds into knots, losing all perspective.

Ashe took a sudden turn down another watery trail hoping to throw her assailants off her tracks but seconds later proved it to be of little use when the splashing of her boots echoing loudly off the cavernous walls alerted them to her position.

Fatigue began to plague her body like someone had just thrown a fifty pound sack of potatoes on her back as she noticed exactly how near the Imperials were.

"Damn!" she cursed through an exhaled huff as she forced her legs to speed up the pace.

As a last ditch effort, she altered her course once more, praying that the four bucket heads weren't smarter than what they looked. But to her misfortune, the path she pursued this time didn't offer her an exit. Much rather the opposite… a dead end.

"Shit!" she let slip from her paling lips as the heat from her exertion flushed her checks and her breathes continued to leave in struggled gasps.

Her gaze darted over the ledge, finding the option of jumping questionable, to the metal armored dummies as they trudged, swords drawn and out stretched, closer in proximity.

The blood in her veins drew cold, almost freezing to a complete stop, when she felt the rise of panic in the pit of her stomach. She tried to pay little mind to the tightening pulls within her belly but her thoughts betrayed her as the doors flew wide open and the fear within her came parading in.

The soldiers tightly walked down the aisle, shoulder pressed against shoulder and their swords at the ready, keeping Ashe from finding an opportunity to flee.

"Now we have her!" barked one of the Imperials through the confines of his hollow helm.

Rolling her lip up as she barred her teeth in a fierce snarl, she unsheathed the Tournesol at her back and slashed it ominously through the thick sewage air toward them.

"Ooo, she's a feisty one!" the man within the armored shell to her far left sneered.

"Aww, look at that Cap'n… she wants to play!" a second one chimed in.

"I bet she'd be real good too," added another gruff voice from her right.

The adrenaline finally kicked in, her limbs beginning to tremble with anger, thawing the blood within her arteries, as the Imperial scum across from her found extreme enjoyment out of the current state.

"Spare me your pointless opinions!" Ashe growled through almost clenched teeth, positioning herself into a battle stance.

"Leave me be if you cherish your lives!" she provoked as she saw no other way out of this quarrel.

Slowly they marched forward, huddling in an arch around her, trapping Ashe on the peninsula that jutted out overlooking the flooded arena ten feet below. Surely she couldn't jump unless she wished to have some broken bones and spend her pain filled nights crying in agony plastered to the dusty Nalbina Dungeon floors. No, her only option now was to persevere and fight back with everything, every last bit of her until death ended it.

With nowhere else to step, Ashe reeled back her sword and lunged forward, charging at one of the impending soldiers with an unexpected burst of rage. Seconds flashed by as her arm brandishing the blade cut through the air and bit into the startled Imperial's abdomen rapidly bringing him down as he tumbled over the edge and into the rushing waters of the canal below.

Blood of their comrade poured from the lethal steel and mixed with the sewage water that pooled at her boots.

"Who would be next?!" she scathed with a frown as she beckoned with her free hand for them to fight her.

They gladly advanced, one carelessly taking a premature swing and sloppily connecting his sword with hers as she easily blocked his attack.

"Close ranks! Bring her down!" bellowed the Captain, or who she assumed him to be.

Suddenly out of nowhere a childish voice filled the air from behind and down below her.

"Jump down! Hurry!" it called in urgency.

She hadn't heard any sloshing or splashing footsteps or seen anyone beyond her vantage point when she previously scanned the area but where had this voice come from?

Quickly she peered over her shoulder; her sword still pointed at her enemies, and witnessed the young platinum haired boy standing below with outstretched arms waiting for her to jump.

She hadn't the time to fully inspect the boy or wager his strength and trust worthiness as she turned back to face the iron clad men who were forging within inches. She had to make a decision and fast or she would most likely become Vayne's personal play toy for all she knew.

Taking a chance, Ashe sucked in a deep breath and took off in a sprint as she propelled over the ledge and felt the weightlessness of her body envelope her as she rapidly sailed through the air. She only prayed to the Gods now that this poor boy would have enough physique to catch and support her when she came falling down.

It seemed like she was moving in slow motion as she fell through the air, finally landing safely into the boy's well-muscled arms.

"Are you alright?" the boy inquired as she was firmly held in his grasp.

But before she could muster up an answer, the guards that still lingered above hollered out to the two below.

"She's not alone!" the agitated Captain cried, motioning his men to descend the ramp opening into the lower arena Ashe now occupied, to intercept them.

A blush creped up into her cheeks, or was it the heat from her adrenaline that flushed her skin so badly? She didn't know, nor did she have the opportunity to find out as she hastily pulled out of the kid's arms and righted herself before taking in the situation.

As Ashe did so, she had failed to notice the two other figures that had been accompanying the blond. Only when they spoke their mind did she startle and realize there were others.

"Our ranks grow by the hour," stated a smooth feminine tone.

"And our troubles with them," sneered another masculine one, though this one had a silkiness to it.

The four of them engaged in battle as the remaining three Imperials stormed the group. With two sword arms, a pistol and a bow, they were no match for them as her three new partners dispatched two of the existing soldiers quickly leaving Ashe with the last.

The Imperial was rather skilled in his footwork and swordsmanship as he parried most of her onslaught, tiring her a bit and getting in some of his own jabs, which were nicely avoided too. Ashe spent the majority of their battle studying his stances, almost instantly learning his next moves, when the window opened for her.

His misguided blade swung within inches of slicing her neck cleanly open and was stopped by her hand as she gripped the extended sword arm. Without delay she slammed the soldier's elbow down into her ascending kneecap forcing him to drop his brand and cry out in agony when she heard the bone crunching sounds. She continued to still tightly hold on to the broken limb as the soldier secretly reached his other hand around his back, pulling out of the breastplate a hidden dagger.

"Look out!" someone alerted as the adversary's arm shot out from behind him flashing the menacing blade in the dull light when it came in dangerous proximity to her body. But not before she could pull her own concealed masterpiece from her retreating greave which she lodged deeply into his gut in one quick fluid movement taking not only the inquisitor by surprise but her new guest as well.

With a small grunt, Ashe dislodged her Platinum dagger and watched with mild amusement as the dead body clacked loudly to the waterlogged ground. Crouching down to the flowing water on the floor, she slowly swished the small sword from side to side removing any remnants of blood before she re-sheathed it into the shin plate.

She had been so consumed in her meticulous cleaning that she hadn't noticed the young boy approach her.

"Are you alright?" he repeated from before the battle.

Startled, she hastily returned to a standing position facing the about eighteen-year-old blond next to her and studied him as he expectantly looked at her for an answer this time. Her eyes scanned over him seeing nothing more than a battered and bruised Rabanastrian orphan who had seen better days in his life. His blond hair was cropped short in the back and left longer in the front, stopping just above his chin, as random sprigs haphazardly laid about the crown of his head. Bright blue adamant irises shined innocently as his carefree and naïve attitude seeped out at the seams making Ashe feel deep down like that of an old dull person who has lost everything and only waits for the grim reaper to take them, ending their misery.

She was envious of this churl and she hadn't even been properly introduced to him yet.

His clothing was plain and simple from the grey vest he wore that exposed the arms, chest and abs to his black leather trousers, which laced up the sides creating a fashionable blue and red crisscross design about the leggings. The boots adorning his feet were made of a cast iron shell, sturdy and effective, which acted also as a pair of greaves shielding his shins from injury along with his gauntlets that decorated his wrists, leaving the digits of his hand bare.

Gently clasping her hands together and bringing them up to her chest, she further approached him as the sensation of relief washed over her.

"Thank you," she genuinely professed as she released a stressed sigh of air.

The eager teen smiled kindly and began to properly introduce his entourage catching Ashe off guard seeing a most likely ill mannered waif with some actual courtesy toward others, but she didn't exactly know his upbringing to judge him so formidability either.

"I'm Vaan. And this is Balthier and-- Hey!" stopping in mid-sentence as the one so called Balthier had his back turned and was hurriedly trying to tip toe his way out of the situation.

Ashe thought him to be rather rude for dogging something so customary to everyday life. Did he think himself above all that?

Strange fellow that one was she concluded. Very flamboyant in his tastes of style as only he could pull off such bold attire. His chromed leathers were unique and one of a kind, made from a hardy dark brown leather, origin unknown, that had been stain with a rich black dye in the recesses of the eloquent artwork which had been pressed into it. It was tightly fitted to his lean body covering all of his torso and neck except the areas around his arms and the front of his throat where his lace stitched collar and blunt edged cuffs appeared in its stead. This bit of white cotton fabric constructing his blouse was the least flashy of his entire ensemble, as it lay wrinkle-free underneath the busy vest.

But the bawdiest piece of all was those pants! Almost suctioned to his limbs, the tight and definitely revealing hide accentuated practically every muscle the Hume body had to offer within the legs and buttock region. It was eye candy to women. Just the same as his vest, there were strips of the fancy scrollwork above and below the knee and also at the hem that embellished the jet-black material. He also wore a set of side bags that belted around his waist, one on each hip, as the belts crossed in the center from their slanted positions. And lastly, a pistol, she immediately recognized it to be an Altar, was cockily propped upwards upon his right shoulder, shot loaded and ready to fire at the next foe to cross his path.

Adjacent to him stood an extremely beautiful and tall Viera. Her beauty astounded Ashe as she resembled something out of her childhood fairytales with her full and height-length white tresses to her quite different fashion in protective armors. She had seen many Viera before but none were as exquisite as this one. The fancy helm that adorned her head was specially constructed for her structure as the large brown tipped ears protruded defiantly upwards through the metal which also neatly framed her eye sockets containing the intense violet orbs. These eyes complimented her features as they radiated with a wise aura showing that she was full of knowledge, wisdom and old folklore beyond Ashe's time although this Viera looked just barely in her prime.

Scantly clad in black and red leather and iron, she noted, the Viera was mostly uncovered. Her torso guarded by lightweight metals in the key areas to her survival and same went for her long and well toned legs that displayed the feminine greaves and thigh protection. Lastly, Ashe observed, was the ordinate bow that was draped over her shoulder and the small quiver of arrows that was latched onto her backside in an optimal position for her quick and deadly delivery.

Ashe was quickly shaken from her reverie when Vaan returned his attention back to her and inquired, "What's your name?"

In thought, she looked down to her still clasped hands and quickly pondered whether it be worth telling them her real name or the lie that she had become, for she did not know her saviors well and doubted that they would stay in her company for very long.

"Amalia," she answered in a daze, eyes slowly meeting his.

"Amalia, huh? Nice to meet ya!" he chirp with a primitive grin plastered on his face, warm and inviting.

Seeing Vaan's mirth only brought her heartache as she let her gaze fall upon the ground in sadness, turning her body in a semi-circle to face the rushing waterfalls across the raging rapids of the canal. There had been other soldiers with her only moments ago but in the unfortunate events that played out from their plans, Vossler had ordered for her immediate retreat into the Waterway as a means of protection. Little good that did as a small band of Imperials caught wind of her flight into the sewers and pursued her like a pack of rabid dogs, hot on her trail, as she fled like the fugitive she was.

The Gods had shined on her this night thankfully and she surely hoped that they were shining on the rest of her men fighting valiantly in her battle for liberation.

"There were others with me."

Thinking to herself and not realizing that she had voiced her thoughts out loud, Ashe was once again bewildered when her train of though had been interrupted by the soft Vieran melody.

"I'm sorry," she comforted sensing her tribulations as she discerned the young Hume standing before her though her own face remained indifferent.

"No…" Ashe whispered.

Those words seemed so final to her. They couldn't have perished! They had been through hell and back with barely a scratch! This wasn't their end, she had faith in them and they would be coming shortly in search of her. This would not be a bittersweet ending… not now.

She wrenched her lids shut forcing the painful ache in her chest to subside but the throbbing of her temples intensified ten fold. Her facial feature contorted as she winced from the pulsating impact in her head, thankfully keeping it hidden from the curious eyes of her new guests.

Suddenly she felt a burning, tugging sensation from within her chest and a deep hum that pulsated intensely into her ears as she was being summoned by some invisible means.

"Huh?!" she heard Vaan's flabbergasted noise.

Rigidly she turned to his standpoint and gasped in shock when she saw the large iridescent flame-orange trinket lethargically intensify then dull its color repeatedly within his gripped hand.

"Oh, now isn't that impressive," Balthier curiously replied as he had retreated back to the other members' location.

Vaan watched as his scrutinizing brown eyes caressed their path over the benevolently stolen novelty that was tightly secured in his hand.

Frowning slightly and jerking the item to his side removing it from his field of view, the boy snapped, "Don't get any ideas. I said it's mine!"

"I'm afraid the jury's still out on that one," came the witty retort as he placed his hands cockily upon his hips and let an egotistical smirk creep onto his lips.

Instantly snapping her attention back to the boy across from her she asked incredulously knowing the course they just traveled came from underneath the palace floors, "You stole that?"

She hadn't considered the possibility that her accessories might be, in all truth, dirty thieves, even though she hadn't gave thought to why a law abiding citizen would be caravanning through a sewage plant at night either.

"Yeah!" squeaked the excited teen as his face lit up with presumptuous pride hoping to impress her.

In a stupor she let out a scornful puff of air as she leaned slightly forward, a cynical scowl sculpted into her mask as she glared at Vaan in disappointment. Of course, out of all the people that she could trust her royal life with, the Gods chose to toy with her, placing a bunch of arrogant _pirates_ in her knights' stead.

'_Bloody perfect!'_ she berated herself as the cold hard stone façade immediately replaced itself.

"Have you finished?" interrupted the gentle but warning tones of the Viera, "When the guards don't report in, they'll come looking for us."

"If they aren't already," Balthier swiftly added as he scanned the waterways.

"You should come with us," Vaan suggested elatedly but she eyed him with stone as he pushed, "Rather than being by yourself."

He had a point and she knew she couldn't make it out of this sludgy swamp in one piece by herself without being granted another run in with her iron plated friends but she also didn't take lightly to being forced to accept the option of siding with criminals either. She was a Princess; she couldn't mar her reputation being around the likes of them, especially ones who pilfered from _her_ family's royal treasury.

Sighing inwardly, Ashe weighed the options and found no other way around it. They had saved her from the inescapable doom that she had almost submitted herself to and fought gallantly to protect her with their lives just as her royal knights had been trained to do. She could not ignore their actions or their bravery and reluctantly concluded that she needed this group of three to help carry out her next course of action from this point. Ashe couldn't be caught without an extra weapon arm again if she planned to keep her wits about her.

"Very well," she replied with ice as she haughtily gave them the cold shoulder and arrogantly sauntered past, swaying her hips regally before stopping at the outlet exiting the small cavern.

Behind her she heard Vaan's naïve questioning of her sudden attitude change.

"What's wrong with her?

Balthier shook his head in hopeless defeat and shuffled his weight from one foot to the other replacing his hands back a top his hips.

"You have a lot to learn before we even get started on your thievery," he reprimanded the clueless orphan.

"What's that mean?" Vaan inquired confused.

The poor boy had no concept of women or how their train of thought functioned. If he was going to become anything remotely close to a sky pirate then he would have to rapidly learn the way of the female Hume, for it was one of the key factors in the career he was wishing to partake in.

Shaking his head once more in destitute toward the boy, Balthier, Vaan and the Viera that Ashe didn't know her name yet, confidently strolled up to her whereabouts in expectance of an explanation to her abrupt change in disposition. But she didn't owe them anything. Only her gratitude to them for saving her otherwise damned existence and nothing else.

Letting her hand creep up to her chin in thought, she brought the stormy irises up to meet with her increasingly impatient onlookers.

"The situation requires I accept such help I can find," she reluctantly proposed, "Though it be from _thieves._"

The word '_thieves_' rolled off her tongue sourly, her face contorting into that of repulsion as if she had just mistakenly sucked the juice from a lemon instead of an orange, harshly shocking her taste buds.

As if she was trying to convince herself, she conceitedly added, "I shall accompany you until we find my companions. No longer."

No longer was for sure. It was already hard enough to swallow her pride and not so willingly join this trio for her country's sake, but she had no other choice.

Ashe intently watched as the corsair turned his head to face Vaan and the Viera in a calmly satisfied manner to further elaborate to the young trainee of their spoken agreement.

"Let's think of her as a '_guest_', then. Unlike Fran or myself," the pirate illustrated, gesturing a hand toward the earlier mentioned Fran and then to himself, continuing to explain, "our '_guest_' probably won't be taking orders from anyone anytime soon."

Ashe scoffed in arrogance at the mention of taking orders and pulled the hand that was resting at her chin down to her chest as she crossed her arms in a huff.

'_Damn right I won't take any orders!'_ she retorted to herself mentally, _'I'm so sick of heeding orders… and I'm suppose to be the one that's royalty!'_

"And," he quickly continued, "she'll leave when she pleases. So, we keep to our affairs and she to hers."

The latter part of the statement was more directed toward the inquisitive teen since he was on a role with asking all the personal questions and just being down right nosey. Balthier let his pointed stare linger on the boy hoping that it helped to permanently cauterize the underlying definition of his speech into Vaan's not so advanced brain.

When he was confident that he understood, the rogue then shifted his sanguine brown eyes to fully take in her slightly curvy but poorly nourished figure. Ashe observed the scoundrel with a scornful expression feeling rather exposed as his eager eyes crawled up and down her body and, if they could have, underneath her clothes.

The Viera, that was now known to be Fran, sensed Ashe's growing hostility and cleared her throat loudly stirring her partner from his scandalous surveying and prodded him to hurry up and finish their exchange before they were spotted. His scrutiny had led him to believe that she was a top ranking official in some kind of movement according to her attire and to this man's quite adept knowledge, he only knew of the one Insurgence group that congregated out of the sewers. Seeing that she could be easily agitated, Balthier chose to push the topic wanting to know if his talents were still up to par.

"I doubt we'll find her wanting in valor… being such an upstanding member of the Insurgence," came the witty remark as the smug grin creped upon his smooth lips.

Almost instantly, Ashe regretted her decision to seek their assistance as she bit down to hold her tongue from spitting out whatever ill mannered retorts she was concocting toward the sneering scum. She could play this game of low blows too if she wanted.

Composing herself, she smoothly corrected him but let the essence of venom drip from her lips.

"Resistance."

This earned her a cockily raised brow from him as he had seen an opportunity to drag her into a game of banter but before he could open his mouth to grace her with another ingenious remark she urged, "Well, what are we waiting for?"

"Well miss Resistance, we are waiting for you to get moving," Balthier quipped but wasn't able to revel in its glory of successfully irritating the woman as the back of Fran's mildly long hand smacked hard up side the back of his head in reprimand.

"Oww! Was that necessary?" bringing a hand up to the point of impact on the back of his head.

"We haven't the time for your games," Fran answered as she moved past a pouting Balthier and a snickering Vaan to make eye contact with Ashe.

"If you are to join us then we best be off now."

Ashe nodded in apprehension and then as the Viera began to trek down the murky path leading toward the steep incline, she too started her course down the musty canal falling into a rhythmic step behind her, listening to the two men quietly bicker a few paces back.

They had only been traveling for a few minutes, mostly in silence, when they were forced to ascend another set of stone steps which Vaan immaturely whined something about his feet as they reached the top of the fifty plus stepped staircase.

"Vaan, please," came the annoyed tone of the sky pirate as he entered one of the many open-walled platforms gaining him the almost serine view of the waterfalls in front even though they were mainly contaminated with rotten food and things he'd rather not know about.

"Hey guys look!" chirped an almost ecstatic Vaan as everyone followed his voice to see what he had found.

Standing about sixty feet away by one of the rusted gates that had been growing about three different types of black mildew, stood the blonde holding up a slightly damaged, but still salvageable, leather shield that he had come by laying in the corner.

"Get back here! We need to stick together if we are going to get out of here in one piece," Balthier chided as the teen jogged back toward the center of the platform.

"Look what I found!" he boasted holding the armory into view for the others to see.

"Ahh, well isn't that nice. Looks like you found yourself a decent leather shield. It might come in handy sometime," retorted the savvy marauder.

Eager to be on her way, Ashe anxiously listened to the exchange, impatiently tapping the tip of her sword with her iron clad boot. She didn't have time for this lollygagging or goofing around, she needed to find Vossler and the others fast before Vayne ordered a military advance on her city. No doubt he would rip it to shreds in search of her valuable life so that he may find pleasure in destroying the last of her rightful dynast bloodline, paving the way for his glory. She had no chance to spare, what she had now was all she would ever have available to her.

"Are you _boys_ finished? We need to keep a move on!" Ashe ordered annoyed.

The air in the sluiceway was becoming increasingly thick with a steamy mist and, as she had further noticed, the all around temperature was slightly increasing as tiny beads of sweat began to adorn her temples causing her to become more agitated than she previously was.

The four hastily continued their journey, encountering a few Gigantoads, Garchimacera and the occasional Ghost along the way as they finally approached the familiar Central Waterway Control.

By now the temperature was at a stifling level and the fog it was creating had become so unbearable that Ashe wasn't even able to take in a full lung of breath without choking on the heated sewage. It was proving difficult to see as well since the dirty vapor was too dense to even visualize a hand waving mere centimeters from her face.

With her eyes squinted, she tried to make out anything within the haze in the distance with no such luck. It was proving impossible as she heard the whiney complaints of Balthier in the near distance as well as the confused statements of Vaan.

"Bloody hell! This heat is causing me to chaff," he flustered pulling at the thick leather sticking uncomfortable to his thighs and grumbling streams of curses as well.

"I don't remember it being so hot or foggy down here before," Vaan stated ignoring the fussy philanderer beside him.

She didn't recall her training grounds to be in this condition either; it was mostly cool and breezy to the point of causing a chill, not a broiler.

Suddenly Fran's voice broke through the opaque ozone, though it came to her ears a bit gargled from the blinding steam, "This way, through the gate."

Next came the grinding of iron hinges protesting and the screeching of the heavy metal as it scraped along the stone floor when it was pushed open, filling the stagnant air. When the gate finally opened enough to pass through, a hurried breeze shot by catching the condensed fog as if it were a large net snagging a prized beast and pulled it into the open pit of the Overflow Cloaca, clearing the proximity around them.

"Huh? What was that?" questioned Vaan as his head franticly jerked from side to side scouring the perimeter.

"Come we must hurry. Someone might have heard the gate," Fran advocated to the others, preventing anyone from answering the inquiry, as she held the bulky door open for their passage.

Once again being able to navigate her surroundings, Ashe followed Balthier and Vaan into the Cloaca only to be smacked in the face for another round tonight… or was it morning… with the impenetrable effluvium throwing everyone, save the Viera, into a momentary coughing fit. Somehow the bodily structure of a Viera was greatly more advanced than that of a Hume's, warranting those magnified capabilities and strengths not easily reached by other species explaining for Fran's immunities to the current situation.

When Ashe was able to calm her breathing and relax her tracheal muscles enough to stop the suffocating sensation swelling within her chest, she unexpectedly felt the ground beneath her tremble and a thundering sound filled her ears. It gradually got louder, booming through out the tunnels as if a stampede of angered Slavens were going to break through the gravel walls at any second. Ashe gave a quizzical glance toward the others and saw them in just as much of a stupor as herself.

The heat that consumed the site had grown to be utterly excruciating now to the point that her delicate skin could possibly erupt into flames if she remained here any longer. But escaping was not an option anymore as an augmented burst of vapor surged through the room announcing the arrival of a rather missed guided element.

Behind the rolling waves of smog that flowed inward around the towering pillars beyond came the strange sight of a blazing molten sphere soaring exasperatingly to their coordinates. Without further hesitation, the ball of oozing lava rapidly morphed into a triple-sized stallion born of two-thousand degree flux which was entirely engulfed in red and white flames. Its mane, tail and feathers around it hooves normally would be generated of a fine coarse hair, but this was not the case as bright hot fire replaced these features, dancing wildly as it burned. Soon it sprouted six tentacles, three decorating each side of its broad neck, with massive globes of energy swirling at the tips eager to be released as the limbs swayed through the fog. It stamped its feet challengingly as the hot beast threw it head back and let out a blistering cry, hurting everyone's eardrums.

"What is that thing?!" Vaan shouted as he raised his Broadsword for battle.

"Firemane," both Fran and Balthier hurriedly answered as they too readied their ranged weapons for the confrontation.

'_Firemane'_ Ashe repeated to herself as she took in the rare creature's beauty which she had been earlier label as. She indeed saw their point for the title. Fiery, but untamable and could burn all those around her in an instant.

"Amalia!"

Balthier's ordering voice broke her train of thought and brought her back to the present situation as she realized she was needed on the front line. Pulling her Tournesol out of its sheath, she valiantly charged the mythical horse just as it reared, kicking fiercely at the air and striking Vaan in the arm, instantly leaving a third degree burn to mar his tanned skin.

"Damn!" he cried as he clasped his sword hand over the injury.

"Keep fighting! We can bring it down quickly!" Ashe barked, taking a forceful swing at its left limb, successfully cutting the film holding the molten liquid in as it poured into the water pools around them creating more steam.

Showing his inexperience, Vaan began to tire quickly which proved to be costly as the mane suddenly stood on its hind legs, its body glowing an ardent yellow and its hooves flailing defiantly through the air, as a series of blazing pillars fusilladed out of the ground. It threw back its head once again and cried out another horrible holler as sparks erupted and showered all around from the energy spheres attached to the tentacles.

This powerful attack thankfully hadn't harmed anyone save for the poor Rabanastrian orphan who had been struck down by the onslaught's poisonous side-effects. Without wasting time, Balthier ran toward the unconscious teen and hastily dragged his limp body away from the battle so that Fran might be able to administer an antidote to cure the life-sucking ailment.

Stepping into Vaan's place to distract the Firemane long enough for Balthier to take action, Ashe hurriedly blocked a scintillate hoof aimed for the daft pirate's back with her blade as she called to him behind her.

"Hurry, I will finish this monster."

He only nodded, not that Ashe could see as her back was turned to him, continuing the fight.

Mostly dogging and ducking to avoid the creature's advances, Ashe swiftly found a small window of opportunity as the monstrosity, for a third time, elevated its head to let out its ear piercing shriek. She pulled her sword arm forward across her body and then angrily with an audible grunt, sent it in a backwards swing letting the top third of the brand slice through the thick of its neck and causing its life blood to spurt out of the massive wound. Its cries became gurgled as the molten soup frothed from the mouth and its legs began to shake and buckle under their weakened state. The boisterous creature in defeat, abruptly returned to its previous state of hard molten matter, though a bit less brilliant, and lamely blew past Fran and Balthier who had been standing by the slime infested pillars in the far back providing cover fire with their gun and bow as Ashe delivered the melee interventions.

Just as obnoxiously as it had entered, it left in pretty much the same fashion, emphatically hammering down the archways in the sewer until the sound was lost amongst the crashing waves of the waterfalls, taking with it the remainder of the ghastly heat and fog.

Turning to find the group behind her with Vaan healed and able to stand on his own again, Ashe found the victory to be bittersweet as the numerous clicks of gun safeties switching off resonated from above.

"Stand where you are!" commanded one of the Imperials a top the balcony.

With an exasperated sigh, Ashe and the rest hesitantly peered up at the twenty or more guards that grimly accessorized the platform with their exquisitely polished pistols and crossbows gleaming in the dim illumination. There would be no escape this turn, as she grumbled in rebuff, unless she wished to become some holey cheese delicacy left over from tonight's fete, which did not appeal to her in the slightest.

Out from behind one of the pistol wielding soldiers appeared, with a pompous swagger, the largely hated and feared Archadian diplomat that was the pit of her country's destruction, Vayne Carudas Solidor. His gait was calm and his expression was neutral as he held his hands behind his back in contemplation. The long tresses of his not so masculine hair fluttered about his face as the harsh stare of his sea-green eyes bore into her own as she instantly realized he knew who she was.

A snarl escaped her dry lips, feeling the hatred for this man and the pain that he and his countrymen had directly bestowed upon her, the people and her family, welled up inside of her, altering her better judgment. He was within her reach, one quick draw of her pistol and a rapidly fired bullet to the center of his forehead was all she needed. One single, precisely aimed piece of steel and gunpowder would start her force to end the war right here, right now, freeing her citizens and herself from the disaster.

With a new determination, Ashe shifted a step forward reaching for one of her stainless steel pistols at her thigh but was abruptly stopped when a warm hand clamped firmly around hers, staying her from doing something undoubtedly stupid and endangering them all, keeping the weapon forced into the holster and holding her back from advancing.

"Now is not the time," Balthier reprimanded in a low tone, not letting his grip slacken until he was sure she wouldn't try to further charge.

A sardonic huff left her mouth at her incredibly unfortunate luck and the air behind them was filled with the echoes of rattling silver plated armor that flowed into the Cloaca along with heavy footfalls as Ashe slowly glanced to her side then smoothly back to murderously glare at the bastard indifferently standing above her. The tiniest of movement was caught by observation as she witness the minor curling of one corner of his mouth in pure joy; the rest remained to be unseen underneath the overly dignified and cold façade as he calmly strolled away commanding his soldiers to shackle and bring them up to the Storehouse entrance.

* * *

**Author's Note:**_ So, how did I do?? This chapter took everything out of me... It was like pulling out my own teeth! Hmm, I hope the next one isn't going to be that tough or else I'm in trouble! I repeat myself from earlier, 10,000+ word chapter, typed with only one hand equals some errors so I'm sorry. _

_Is it just me or do my chapter's seem to have a pattern of going from long to longer to really short and back to long and longer again? Hmm maybe its just the heavy amounts of painkillers making the brain fuzzy ;) So I beg you... please give a cripple a break and review! It doesn't have to be long, it can be short and sweet or whatever you like. Just nothing immature thats all :)_

_landis icelilly_


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** _HEY!!!!!!!! I **FINALLY** updated!!! It has almost been like two months! I'm sorry... :( This chapter is nothing special in my opinion but I wrote it anyways, it goes with my story so. I'm sorry it took so long, mostly to type it out, because I'm still nursing a injured arm and wrist. But I'm hoping that the next chapter will come out a bit **sooner** than what this one did :) Anyways, I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, you are awesome! And to those who find the time to read and lose the time to review... well... I guess thanks for at least looking at it and bringing my hit count up to 1900 plus:) Wow, I never would have thought! Ok, enough of me... Read, Enjoy and most importantly Review! (Flames not accepted)_

_landis icelilly_

_**Sita SilverBreeze:** I updated, so now you can spare me my pitiful excuse for a life :) lol!_

**Disclm:**_ I forgot this little tidbit on my last chapter but I'm pretty sure that everyone knows the drill. I own nothing of Final Fantasy XII or Square Enix. I am soo poor right now that I can't even afford my own toilet paper:P_

* * *

"They're the thieves that stole into the place!" declared a Lowtown residence as he observed the spectacle before him. 

"Is that the commotion last night was about?" questioned another.

"I hope they get what's coming to them!"

In a state of melancholy, Ashe stood slightly slouched and had chosen to stare glumly at the thick rectangular plates they had called handcuffs, locked to her wrists, which hung helplessly in front of her waist. They weren't doing much to ease the pain that was now throbbing from her shoulder and the deep cut in her palm that she had been nursing- since some of the stitches were most likely ripped out from battle anyway.

Shortly after Vayne's exit of the Overflow Cloaca, the four members had been slapped with iron cuffs and roughly shoved up the steps into Lowtown's Storehouse and out into the public's eye. They were forced into a lineup as if they were puppets in a small sideshow and had been surrounded by the statue-like guards, as they barely moved an inch awaiting their orders, and the onlookers that were speckled all about.

"They think me some common thief," Ashe quietly said, her words filled with despair at the thought of her people not being able to recognize her, which, she quickly reminded herself, was not all that bad.

Hearing her desolate comment, Balthier stealthily shuffled his way back to stand next to her, choosing to clarify the situation.

"Better than a common assassin," replied his smooth, silky tone as his breath slightly brushed her ear from the closeness.

Ashe felt completely vulnerable, though she would never let her guise show it, standing there on display, chained like some ordinary pilferer and charged for crimes she did not commit. She wished that _her_ elite guards were here to wash away this Archadian rabble; she wished, as much as she would hate to admit to him of her being ignorant to his warnings, that Vossler would just come galloping around that dark corner, to feed a plate of steel to the Lord Consul himself. And then later, he would probably verbally assault her for being shallow and moronic in her ways causing him to feel triumphant over actually proving a point to her.

But it wasn't until now that the flash of a distant memory flew through her thoughts and she greatly desired the company of her late guardian, her childhood friend and, towards the end just before those final days of his honorable life, her lustful fantasy.

The late Captain Basch Fon Ronsenburg was her true knight in shining armor; he had saved her many times from her foolish and naïve stunts keeping her safe from itchy fingers within Rabanastre's city limits, who wanted nothing more than to either kidnap her or slit her throat, or so he had portrayed all that time.

In this far off dream that she had experienced sometime ago in her life, wanting desperately to leave it behind, was the unforgettable request of a promise to always protect her, to always keep her from harm and most importantly, to always be by her side regardless of war or peace. Until this moment, she had forced herself to bury the recollection of when he finally gave his shy but trustworthy devotion to her, vowing to never fail even if it meant risking his life for her. She had been only seven when this dauntless oath was brought forth to the page and though he may not have taken the true meaning of it seriously… she had, never neglecting its undeniable meaning. But Ashe, in light of the situation that had happened, needed to ignore this heart filled promise, ultimately throwing it into the pits of hell where her once honest and valiant knight had been sent after the gallows as he was put to his death for high treason and the death of the King. For the death of _her_ father.

As much as she tried, needed and should have, Ashe had never wanted to truly forget him or that promise. Deep down in what was left of her fragmented heart, underneath her burning hatred and anguish for the man was the tightly chained up piece inside that screamed for release. That begged to not be ignore. It cried to her that he was still alive somewhere and tricked her to think that he, too, would come running around that bend behind Vossler, sweeping her under his wing, saving her from everything.

She abruptly berated herself for her train of thought. Who was she kidding! He was dead. He was a traitor. A kingslayer and a murderer that had only seen things for himself. He had faked loyalty and honor straight to her face. Surely a man as kind and gentle as he could not be capable of the thoughtless murder of her father, but it was all a grand façade that crashed down on her one night and she could never be the same.

Knocking her out of her reverie, the Imperial Captain standing angled behind, harshly shoved a gloved hand into her back just between the shoulder blades causing her to take in a startled gasp of air as she was forced to walk in front of the guard. The others were made to remain as she was involuntarily separated from her new companions.

Without full evaluation, she quickly hollered over her shoulder to the Captain that once again jostled her back as she tried to return the favor for her three rescuers. It wouldn't hurt to try.

"These people have done nothing! Release them!"

But the order was overlooked as Ashe continued to be escorted out of the corridor.

"What are you doing?" broke Vaan's perplexed plea.

Annoyed at the boy's ignorance for her efforts, she snapped her head around to glare at him in resentment and bitterly reprimanded, "Don't interrupt me, I'm thinking!"

Turning her head back around to commence walking again, she was blessed with another sharp blow to her back but this time it was a lot harder and by a different soldier. She held her head high and unfazed by the negligent handling, trudging defiantly by her enemy, who stood silently off in the corner, closely observing her figure making sure he had the right person in his grasp before he would choose to speak. Just as soon as she passed him, she could hear the metallic jingle of his footsteps start almost immediately behind her, clinking and thudding with confidence and purpose making sure to follow at a slight distance as she was shown the exit out of Lowtown.

Upon reaching the flight of steps and the gates leading out, Ashe could hear the panicked cries of a young girl in the distance from which she had just came, giving her reason to slow her pace.

"Wait!" the girl pleaded.

"He didn't know what he was doing! You have to let him go! You have to!"

She sounded desperate in her attempts and Ashe figured that the guards were holding her back.

"Penelo!" Vaan's immature melody filled the halls, "Sorry. That dinner'll have to wait."

"I told you!"

It was swollen with such pain and heartbreak as it echoed off the walls and into Ashe's ears.

The rest happened so fast as she next heard Balthier's snide remarks about his abusive treatment when the Imperials began to usher the rest down the same course. When they had rounded the corner she witnessed Vaan holding the back of his head tightly and swaying back and forth, unstable, as he walked.

The guards must not have like his altercation, thinking it to be some form of a stall.

Instantly, she felt sorry for her acquaintances and regretting the fact that she had needed their help to get away from these chains that she ironically ran right into but unknowingly brought them along for the ride as well. She had been selfish to take advantage of them and possibly screwing up their, otherwise, shackle-free lives.

As they walked, Balthier lifted his cocky gaze up to meet her own but instead of the cocksure attitude that he possessed; hers was only glazed over with an abandoned hardness to it, offering him a nostalgic apology but never bring it to words. She watched as his head barely nodded once in acknowledgement before she heard a gruff voice next to her order for her to move along and then a concentrated blow came as a metal gauntlet crashed into the back side of her head making her vision become blurred.

The burning sensation was intense and added to the already pulsating migraine that she had from the previous night. Falling to her knees, she quickly grasped the back of her head and forced the essence of vomit that was threatening to leave her body, from appearing. She tried hard to stop the spinning inside of her head with haste but was abruptly yanked up off the floor and this time, was grabbed by the bicep and was drug the rest of the way out.

* * *

Location: Unknown… 

Heartbeat pounds were all she could hear or feel at that second, reverberating constantly in her skull and quivering out through her fingertips. An eye cracked open then instantly wrenched itself shut when the pain worsened from the ardent light that stabbed in. Next came an anemic groan, which exited from a pair of split lips as her senses lethargically returned and she began to fight off her ever-growing misery.

'_Where in Ivalice am I?'_

When Ashe was finally able to handle the blazing illumination through half lidded eyes, realization dawned on her about her predicament.

The metal floor was cold and her battered body ached of something terrible, positioned and slouched uncomfortably, like a rag doll, up against the steel wall with legs spread in a V and arms helplessly draped at her sides. Everything felt numb but all at the same instance, felt excruciating as the blood continued to pulse onward through the veins. Her sight was blurred and her focus was groggy, had she been drugged? Or had she just been knocked out?

'What happened to me?' 

What about that of her new acquaintances? Where they going through this torture as well?

'Where is everyone?' 

Her inquiries would remain unanswered for now and so would the many other questions that floated inside her mind at this moment.

Shifting slightly, she tried to move an arm so that she may wipe the wild strands of golden hair out of her face but cried in agony when it hurt too bad to even twitch a finger.

Another groan, this time in frustration, filled the air when a second attempt to move a limb failed horribly in anguish. There was nothing she could do that wouldn't bring about the burn, absolutely nothing.

And to make matters worse, she was unarmed, all her prized weapons missing from their places making retaliation pointless even if she could function properly.

Laying a head back against the wall in exhaustion and defeat, Ashe reluctantly granted her wasted form a rest as she dozed off into unconsciousness again, to await her fate.

* * *

The Nalbina Dungeons… 

A stale musky air hung about the prison walls and throughout the cell bars of Basch's cage, nothing that he wasn't already used to since his two years of residency had built him up to it.

Silence, he had learned, was the norm around this part of the day… or was it night?

Who the fuck knew down here?!

There were no holes or windows to the outside world for daylight or moonlight to sneak in. There weren't any of the incompetent Judges or Imperials that would talk to him either. So day was night and night was day to him anymore, it didn't matter that much below ground. He slept when he pleased anyway.

Shouts and cries were erupting from beyond the magic sealed archway leading into the Black Watch and from what Basch could scarcely make out, some of the newly admitted prisoners were causing a ruckus. Probably trying to pick a fight with one of the slimy, grotesque jail Seeqs in an attempt to escape, not a wise choice since he was well versed on the issue.

Obviously with nothing better to do and out of boredom, he entertained his ears with the distance activity until it suddenly died down into quietness again. It was odd, but what wasn't down here?

Abrupt metallic chatter broke through the lull and his mental griping and piqued an interest in him to eavesdrop on the commotion.

"What did you call me? Say that again!" snarled the rich Arcadian accent, unmistakably a hotheaded Imperial.

"What, you couldn't hear?" retorted the agitator with the gruff tone of a Bangaa as Basch recollected from his travels and experiences around the race.

"I merely said that the lot of you are incompetent fools. If you've the sky pirate in your hands, where is he?" the Bangaa demanded sounding rather annoyed.

"You'd have done better, Ba'Gamnan. By your own words, it was the Imperial Army who caught this sky pirate of yours. We've done your job for you! We don't require the assistance of filthy headhunters. The Empire will restore order here."

"Eh? What's that you say now? Maybe I'll whet my blade on you… before I kill Balthier!" threatened the angered beast, but the voice that boomed next in reprimand would be enough to stop everything. Even Basch's own delirious ramblings, as his twin's muffled words echoed clearly through the halls.

"That's enough, Ba'Gamnan!"

Dead air swallowed the vocal sounds once again and then the far away _'clink'_ and _'clack'_ welled into his ringing ears as the Judge Magister began to advance to his intended mark.

"The Emperor is willing to overlook race for his more talented servants. However, those that do not show respect will receive none in kind."

"Your honor—"

Basch cringed for the poor sod and laughed at his stupidity for making a bad choice in manners as the Bangaa tried to get a word in edgewise. Interrupting Noah was very similar to lighting yourself on fire, you just didn't do it unless you really wanted to seriously get hurt or die a miserable death. He had done it on a few occasions, knowing all to well his short temper, just for the fun of it and in reward, getting his own ass kicked when they had been younger. As years rolled on, Basch had become more of the dominating one in strength compared to his brother but Noah still liked to challenge that fact, feeling belittled by the other blonde's traits.

Quickly, the Judge Magister interjected, "You travel freely through our lands because the Emperor wills it. Am I correct?"

A heavy hesitance impeded before the headhunter answered him.

"Bah!"

Next, repetitive jingles floated through the mist infused fog signaling his brother's progress and that of his faithful hounds following mere inches from his heels. He strained to hear what was discussed further but was disappointed when the voices came to him jarred and mumbled into one long incoherent mess. Minutes passed, forced to anxiously listen to the annoying prance that came closer and closer to his cage. Noah was coming to see him and Basch wagered that it wouldn't be a pleasant visit since the result of their last conversation went to hell in a hand basket and he was in no mood to deal with him now.

'What now…' he contemplated releasing an irritated sigh. Could his life possibly get any worse than it already was? 

"AMARULSIVADUSHKU…" chanted the Imperial Mage equipped to his brother's arsenal of fools, as the door's binding magics lit up in dissipation of the barrier.

A blinding light erupted in the distance from the thick ivy clad gates causing Basch to immediately advert his eyes until the emanation dulled enough for him to catch a glimpse of the doors sliding open revealing the tantalizing horned helm hiding the true coward beneath its protection.

Waves of sickness over came his chilled and sallow body suddenly, a mouthful of putrid bile shooting up into his throat where he tried to hold the expulsion back but failed miserably when the yellowish green chunder evacuated from his lips.

The bodily forced clearing of his stomach had become a daily, if not hourly, ritual that could have been done without. He had felt like shit for almost a week now, head pounding so hard it should have cracked his skull wide open and vomiting unannounced night and day after every meal. He was more a skeleton than a Hume now, after dropping almost twenty pounds of his mass in nearly a week's time from not being able to retain any of his food's nutrients. Something was plaguing his insides and he desperately feared that it would swallow him whole, leaving behind his remains.

But isn't that what he wanted? To die and leave this shit hole and all the crap they brought upon him? He wouldn't be missed, that was for sure.

It was a mixed answer question, yes he could die and be released from this pain for forever but he could not and would not do so as long as he had this feeling, this nagging beat, inside of him that screamed Ashe was still alive. He wouldn't leave her behind again, not ever if he could gain a second chance.

The approach of heavy footfalls caused by the steel covered boots stopped and alerted him to the Judge Magister's presence. Strapped pointlessly inside of his cell, Basch could show his brother no ounce of strength, not even enough to lift his head, his entire body incapacitated within the metal binds from the growing illness.

Though he wasn't looking directly at his twin, he was still hanging high enough up that he could view his movements within his peripheral vision as the gaudy mask was removed.

'_That short hair cut makes him look like a prick,'_ he thought while having to take in the sight of his kin.

As Noah's head slowly raised, he recited in a collected tone, "You have grown very thin, Basch."

'_Try vomiting your life's blood every fucking hour.'_

"Less than a shadow. Less than a man. Sentenced to death and yet you still live. Why?"

'_Because _she_ is still alive.'_

"To silence Ondore. How many times must I say it?!" he settled to heave at the man in frustration.

It was the same damn dispute with every interrogation instructed by the Magister and it was becoming quite infuriating. Why did he care so much about his life? He was the bastard that had put him in this predicament, chains and all. Maybe Noah was trying to break him, get him to talk about anything pertaining to the Resistance or Dalmasca's next military move, something.

But Noah knew how his own brother's mind worked, it could be crushed a million times and the information locked away inside would follow him to the grave, defeating the point.

"Is that all?" Noah prodded, now he was pushing Basch's buttons.

'_That little…'_

His head shot up, a disgusted expression plastered upon Basch's features as he sharply retorted, "Why not ask Vayne himself. Is he not one of your masters?"

Displeasure at his brother's words showed as Noah released a bitter snort and curled his upper lip in a snarl. He would be damn if he were to let this coward in front of him get away with such a jab.

"Damn it Basch!" he blurted out before his better judgment could stay his tongue.

If Basch hadn't been so weak he would have let a smile play at his lips, utter joy filling him at the sight of still being able to get under the man's skin. At least some things hadn't changed about him.

A slight nod to clear his temper flare and then Noah continued with his assignment.

"We've caught a leader of the Insurgence. She is being brought from Rabanastre. The woman Amalia."

'_Amalia… could it be…?'_

He hadn't heard that name in so long and the way it cleverly dripped off Noah's lips only made it more beautiful to his ears. Intense ice blue irises snapped up to momentarily meet with the dynamic hazel ones of his twin, they told him that this tidbit was no bluff and that he knew of the Resistance's secret prize.

"Who could that be?" scoffed the Judge.

She was alive. Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca was living and hopefully well. But for how long?

A minor relief was brought to Basch as he released a sigh and lowered his gaze in thought, this changed everything, and if Vayne had his grubby palms on Ashe then it would only be a matter of time before he would try to proposition her into being his puppet. Or worse… kill her and put an end to the Dynast-King's bloodline.

He couldn't allow that to happen! He had to find a way out of this stone hell and fast. The Gods had finally answered his prayers and sent him his second chance with a bow plopped on top and he would be damned if he threw it away. He had to get to her or at least die trying this time.

Noah's sneering words bit at his ears once again, interrupting his reverie, "Such a faithful hound to cling so to a fallen Kingdom."

Even in the severity of the situation, he still had the nerve to throw in the barbs that went along with sibling rivalry, always wanting to end up on top. This was a sore subject between the two and Basch knew exactly where this exchange would go.

Fuming, he bitterly spat, his eyes staring daggers at his brother, "Better than throwing it away!"

The intimidating helm was returned to its resting place atop Noah's shoulders where a hollow and strangled retort broke through the material, " Throwing it away? As you threw away _our_ homeland?"

Basch recoiled from the blatant stab to the heart, nothing more could be said as the sound of laden footfalls filled the misty air signaling the dismissal of the heavily armored Judge and his posse of Imperials. He always knew how to put Basch in his place, even if there wasn't a way, he would still find one.

He knew he was a coward for running away that night and he accepted that shame but what he couldn't tolerate was the fact that he would never receive forgiveness from anyone for his mistakes. Especially Noah. Each and every one of them was a scar on his heart just as this place was a scar on his body, ugly and dreadful upon appearance and never forgotten over time.

When the metallic clamor died down, Basch remained in thought, but not missing the pitter-patter of quieted footsteps advancing his tomb. They weren't covered with clanking armor and didn't squelch or scrap across the stone floor like all his other visitors did. No these were… different.

"Who's there?" he called, unable to exert the energy to lift his head.

Three figures sauntered just into his peripheral view, two Humes and a beautiful Viera, choosing to ignore his existence. One was a rogue, from what Basch could tell, possibly a sky pirate but the other was just a boy, too young to be flying the skies and pilfering at his age, most likely an orphan. But what was he doing here? And the Viera… well he hadn't a clue to what her purpose there was. Maybe she was the pirate's significant other or something to that effect.

"This the place?" questioned a rich, slightly Archadian, tone as they peered downward over the railing.

"This mist is flowing through this room. It must be going somewhere," replied the soft and sweet melody of the exotic creature.

"Hmm."

They were prisoners looking for a way to escape! Now was his chance, they could bust him out of these confines as well and then he would be able to save the Lady Ashe from certain peril.

"You! You're no Imperials. Please, you must get me out—" Basch pleaded as he gathered the strength he needed to raise his head up but a snappy reply cut him short.

"It's against my policy to speak with the dead. Especially when they happen to be Kingslayers."

"I did not kill him!"

"Is that so? Glad to hear it!" the pirate sarcastically dismissed finally making eye contact with him.

Ok, this was going to be a lot harder than Basch had originally pondered. He had been given a second chance alright- with a hardheaded, cocksure egotistical marauder donning a silver tongue. He wasn't very much in the mood for that right now since his own brother showed similarities, so he would try a different approach… the boy.

With desperation evident in his orison, Basch begged the blond youth before him, "Please, get me out. For the sake of Dalmasca!"

But what happened next was all a shock to him as the teenage boy propelled himself onto the metal bars of the cell, holding on tightly, with rage painted upon his features. Something Basch said had set this boy off but he wasn't sure what as the kid screamed in his face, stamping his feet madly on the cage floor.

"Dalmasca?! What do you care about Dalmasca?! Everything that's happened is because of you! Everyone that's died, every single one! Even my brother- you killed my brother!" he accused, sounds of tears shredding his voice as he sorrowfully bowed his head at the end.

"Quiet! The guards will hear!" whispered a warning.

It was already too late; rapid clatter began to echo from down the large hall as the Archadian soldiers were making a hasty return to find out what all the commotion was about.

A quick glance down the archway by the Viera settled their plan of action, "I'm dropping it!"

It all happened so fast as the hoist's brake lever was kicked free and the rusty birdcage's chain whined loose as it rapidly fell into the pitch-black hole below his feet. From the sound of it, he had a few other passengers besides the boy as well when two separate _'thumps'_ articulated from the dome just above his head.

The sudden and prolonged weightlessness cradled him, plummeting almost thirty stories in the mist infused darkness before the crunching and wailing noises of steel poured into the stale atmosphere.

"This isn't going to feel pleasant!" somebody cried.

That was the last thing Basch heard before the cell finally crashed at its destination, his body and the others having been violently launched from the wreckage.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Sorry, this was a short one but if I hadn't of ended it here then it would have become longer than the last chapter and it would have been like three months before I could get it posted! I couldn't do that now could I? Especially since Sita SilverBreeze would have murdered me if I hadn't of updated, lol :) You know I'm just kidding! Like I said before... thanks for reading and I hope you can find the time to review! Keep in mind that there is probably some errors too... I'm only hume!_

_landis icelilly_


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:**

_Hey! I'm still alive!! I was on vacation and had major writer's block, ugh! But I managed to pull this together and I'm not exactly happy with it but I wasn't in the mood to trash it and start over so I'm posting it! You'll just have to read and let me know how bad I did. Anyways, thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this thus far... you are the best! Oh! And yah for 2900+ hits!! I never would have thought! :D_

**Disc:**_ I own nothing!_

* * *

Location Unknown…

"You there! Wake up!"

Rough nudges made by a cold object contacting in her kidney region and the harsh grumbles of the soldier were enough to bring Ashe back into consciousness, albeit a bit groggy. She managed to fully open her lids this time and was startled to find that three Imperials and a Judge surrounded her in the breezy cubical.

A second shove was warranted to her side but proved unnecessary.

"I'm awake!" Ashe snapped, a hasty glare being directed at the culprit.

"Glad to hear it, your Highness," bellowed a deep gruff emphasis from underneath the battle worn Judge helm standing before her disheveled form.

'_Highness? How did he know who I am? Wait… where am I?'_

Ashe tried hard to remember how she wound up in this place but nothing came to mind as she drew a blank, her head beginning to pound with ferocity.

"Where am I?"

"You're in cell block two nineteen, for the time being. That is all you need to know now," blared the lesser Judge.

Everything seemed so loud to her, the slight clinking and clacking when their armor shifted, the reverberation of their barked orders within those stupid helmets, even the labored breaths wheezing inside her lungs were too boisterous to handle, wincing at each little noise.

"The side effects should wear off with time but for now, the Lord Consul desires the company of your presence."

'_Side effects? What is he talking about?'_

A harsh snort lead before a bitter reply was spat, "Well you can inform the Lord _Consul_ that I am declining his requisition."

"Oh, you are, are you? Well isn't that just a shame. I don't remember his Lordship's request being negotiable. Men, will you please escort the Lady Ashelia to her destination."

"Yes sir!" chimed the trio, a clamor erupting inside the iron box as they advanced on her tousled figure, roughly yanking the bloody, sewage soaked and soot smeared excuse for a princess off the icy ground and drug her out of the cell.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

"I'm sorry your Highness, I cannot for you are remiss for your meeting. It wouldn't do you any good to stall, now would it?" the soldier taunted, this time something very familiar played at the edges of the Judge's tone and he knew Ashe had caught it when a skeptical eyebrow was raised.

She had heard those words before, out of Vossler's mouth when she would try to drag her feet for those boring royal socials, but this was definitely _not_ Vossler.

Or so she hoped.

Quickly, the Judge turned, in a poorly masked panic, as he made a rapid retreat out of the holding cell and vanished into a poorly lit corridor some paces in front of them.

'_That sounded like… No, it couldn't be… he wouldn't.'_

She berated herself for her moronic train of thought and focused on finding a way out of this mess. She would be damned if she let these pigs handle her this way!

"I said let me go!"

Ashe growled and began putting forth an effort to break free; throwing a sharp elbow into the Imperial's abdomen on the right as she wildly kicked her feet.

"Ugh!" he grunted but his grip on her arm was unrelenting.

"Get moving!" ordered the guard walking abaft, the only one still brandishing a weapon since he felt she was still a threat even in her half drugged state.

The tips of her gold plated boots scraped loudly down the hallways, the guards holding her securely by the biceps and up above the floor enough so that she couldn't get the footing to fight their restraint.

A sigh of discomfiture exited and her pointless struggle ended, as she became a dead weight in their grip. There was no use in exerting what little energy her physique still held, it was mostly being withered away by the onslaught of invading migraines and by the immune system playing catch up to the entire trauma her anatomy had sustained. She was quite beat up on the outside, flesh wounds as she'd say when she would try to shrug off Vossler or the squad's medic, but there was still a lot more fight to go on the inside, cuts and scratches merely put a damper on the situation but never could, not for one second, hinder Ashe.

The course to Vayne's quarters was an insipid one; only the droning of armored footfall swallowing the lifeless air encompassed them. She listened, to pass the time, to the sounds of her breaths when they echoed inside her eardrums, they were slightly troubled, rasping and seething on the inhale and exhale leaving the sensation of being slothfully suffocated in their wake. It must be the dust in this musky air or something to that effect. She listened to the heavy thumps hammering along rhythmically inside her skull as each and every gush of red blood passed through the many dams within its own stream.

She imagined the sour crinkled up, contortion of Vossler's displeasure when he would receive word of her capture and her complete negligence of the situation. Well that is if he was even still alive at this point.

Finally, after some time, Ashe and the three guards came to a halt just outside a pair of extravagant doors, the House Solidor insignia boldly engraved into its flanks with a sumptuous strip of fine gold framing it.

Two concrete raps could be heard as they mirrored inside the chamber when the third Imperial that had been following knocked. A faint reply was given, muffled by the postern, before it was eased open and Ashe was rudely kicked over the threshold by means of a foot to the rear.

"Hey—Ouch! Do you even know how to treat a lady?!" she retorted after landing face first on the floor before slowly pushing herself back up.

She was answered by the slamming of the metal door and then complete utter silence covered the room; and it wasn't the good type either. It was the kind that creped you out because it was _too_ quiet.

The pit of her stomach filled with the flutters of abhorrence and an intense chill shot up her spine. Something in the room felt otherworldly, faint swirls of mist flickered throughout, pale translucent portraits of her standing still, an intrigued but skittish mug plastered on her face, before abruptly fading away. This haze seemed to be attracted to her because no matter where she moved inside that room, another fuzzy, delusional hologram would flash into her view, some of them going as far as to alter her age and physical appearance.

Rather annoyed at seeing herself so weak and defenseless in these images and not being very keen about the feeling it created either, Ashe agitatedly swatted at the battered figures, disrupting the depiction as it twisted and then disappeared.

What in Ivalice was this? Nothing in her teachings or school ledgers had mentioned about this phenomenon, this defiance of physics, nor had it come up in any of the topics set for discussion in the Resistance briefings. It was a complete mystery, everything from how it contained reflective like properties to why it was even in this room, things that couldn't be answered right now.

A quiet shuffle startled Ashe out of her pondering. Gasping, she quickly turned in its direction, finding nothing but the blacked out wall of oaken bookshelves filled with thousands of texts on ancient history and magical folklore. Some of the old books were stacked haphazardly upon a small center table, one having slipped off the pile onto the crummy surface top landing with its dusty cover open and the dirty brown pages fluttering, revealing the many years of use. The quaint piece was surrounded by four over stuffed, and probably ridiculously expensive, wine tinted velvet chairs which looked as if they had been more recently occupied since the one closest to her was left out standing.

Hesitantly, she stalked up to the outward turned seat, sliding timid hands along the plushy fabric upholstering the back; it too was in real need of a good cleaning as a cloud of dust particles evacuated from the material at her touch. Dander filled her lungs when she inhaled, a strong burn igniting deep inside her chest, which was soon followed by stifled gags as Ashe hacked on the filthy air.

"I must apologize for the lack of cleanliness, you Highness," broke a deep Archadian voice from behind her as a cold shiver coursed up her spine once again, making the hair on her neck stand on end, "I had to more recently terminate some of my maids but that should not interest you."

No it didn't interest her, she could care less to what he did with his hired help at the moment, and all she wanted to know was where this place was and how to get out of it.

An aloof snort dripped from her mouth alongside an arrogant retort, "What should I be then?"

"Now, now, Lady Ashelia,"

Ashe visibly cringed; the sound of her birth name oozing from his tongue unhinged her.

"That attitude is ill befitting of you. Especially since you are a Princess, or for that matter, a Queen now."

Refusing to turn round, she snarled, "Who are you to speak of ill behavior? Why are you holding me here?"

A large shadow, if it were at all possible in this dimly lit room, cascaded over Ashe's petite form as the Archadian stepped close and offset, his body heat radiating into her backside from the closeness, which was only a few centimeters away, and leaned his lips down to her ear in response.

"Who, you ask? I am Lord Vayne Cardus Solidor of Archadia. My opinion was merely a suggestion; take it none too seriously, your Highness."

With both hands clasped behind his back, Vayne haughtily curved his position so that his dark guise was visible. His sneering smirk lit up his features, a satisfactory brow raised and the confirmed 'hmm' squeaked through pressed lips upon affirmation of the Princess' well being.

She was very much alive and this would put a major kink into his original plans of conquering Ivalice. But he had an amendment he could put into play and still maintain the objective of his intent.

"But enough of this matter. I have something of great importance to speak of you with," the cocksure grin only becoming wider as he spoke.

"And what could be of greater importance than giving me my Kingdom back?" Ashe flared.

"Nothing, since my proposition is exactly this."

"You would give me back Dalmasca? Free of all Imperial occupancy?" disbelieving his generosity.

"Yes, Dalmasca could be yours once again."

"Could? In exchange for what?" she flatly asked, her eyes narrowing at the hollow offer.

"In exchange for your cooperation with the Archadian government. Dalmasca will be released into your leadership and will remain a territory of Archadia."

"Ha! And take orders from an Imperial? From you?! I refuse!" Ashe disputed, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides.

"You would throw her away? As well as a grand Imperial army far superior in strength and numbers than your own? You would have all of Archadia at your side. And you choose to decline? Why?"

"I do not throw her away, Dalmasca is merely out of hand's reach. I assure you, she will be secured along with my throne once again but not through means of your twisted generosity. Though your armies show of strength, their numbers do not scare nor impress me in the slightest. They will all fall just the same in time. Dalmasca will live on and vacant of Archadian influence as long as I shall live!"

A triumphant gleam lit up in her features as the defiant princess boldly held her ground.

"Hmm, I see there will be no persuading you. T'is a shame, I was hoping to put your leadership qualities to a much better cause but I will have to sadly remain disappointed."

"Disappointed indeed. Are we finished here? If you would be so kind as to return me to my Kingdom, I have some important matters that need to be dealt with. First order of business would be ridding Dalmasca of your Imperial dogs," she added not allowing her audacious glare to leave its mark.

With a smirk, Vayne released a minute chuckle. This Dalmascan princess was a fiery one that was for sure. He would have to toy with her more often; she was rather entertaining when it came to political negotiations.

"Yes, your Highness, we are finished here. As for your request to return to your throne, I cannot do that. I will have my guards escort you back to your cell and tend to your wounds. Possibly a change of wardrobe would be in order too since your current one has been extremely soiled," Vayne offered while snapping two white gloved fingers signaling for the guards to enter.

"I can tend to myself, thank you very much!" Ashe retorted just as the three guards who had dragged her down here trudged in.

"Yes, sir?"

"Escort the Lady Ashe back to her cell and retrieve someone to heal her wounds. Make sure she receives a change of attire and a full meal. Wouldn't want our guest to feel neglected now would we," he ordered as his last sentence came out in more of a coo than a command.

"Yes sir!" all three saluted then proceeded to take Ashe roughly by the arms and push her quickly out of the study.

"Ow! Do you mind?!" she cried.

Something from the soldier's metal glove had pinched the thin skin of her underarm but they could have cared less as they continued on.

Moments later they approached the arch-shaped doorway of her cell, it was not a very inviting picture with iron barred and padlocked doors decorating the walls.

Once more, Ashe was forced to enter her cell room with the not so needed help of that metal boot as her healing cheek crashed into the hard floor.

"Hey! I'm very capable of walking into a room on my own! Remind me to kick you in the derriere and let you see how it feels!" Ashe fumed. Her answer was the cell door being loudly slammed in her face and the click of the lock, leaving her to her thoughts.

* * *

_"Hmph… Hey!"_

_Petite giggles, stifled by a tightly placed hand, filled the cool, peaceful Dalmascan night air. It came from behind, almost startling him out of his day dreamy state and triggering him to turn round, entering an alert stance. With his Broadsword at attention, he hastily scanned the grounds of the palace gardens. _

_No threats came into view. All that stood present in the tall river grass field was a small blonde headed figure, not more than ten. The golden moon shined brightly that night up within the starry sky, cradling the youngster within its arms causing her to gleam ever so slightly inside its comforting embrace._

_She was an angel, an angel not yet grown enough to spread her wings and still not strong enough to even fly. She just stood there helpless, her porcelain skin drinking up the moon's heavenly rays, with nothing else but a sheepish smile, a pair of shy blue eyes that peaked out through a messy quaff and a thinly weaved cotton night gown that gently rustled with the gentle breeze._

"_Your Highness. It is late! May I ask why you are out?" he inquired rather confounded to her awkward behavior._

_Another quiet giggle was smudged from her lips. _

"_But Captain Basch, I couldn't sleep. So I thought that I could keep you company for the remainder of your watch," the little princess beamed with hope filling her dainty cheeks._

_He released a heavy sigh; "It's dangerous for you out here Lady Ashe… especially at _this_ hour. May I suggest that her Highness return to her chambers and try retiring for the night again?" _

_He didn't want to hurt her feelings since he felt honored that she would even consider choosing him to be her friend and that she was also taking into thought about his well being more often than himself. But… she was royalty and he, her protector, so with a high-risk threat of an invasion on this particular night, it was out of the question. He just couldn't chance the princess falling into enemy hands; she would be the bargaining chip and surely would be hurt in the process, something he would never forgive himself for. _

"_Hmph! I just said that I wasn't sleepy! I think you need to clean your ears out more Basch. I want to stay here and help you! I can take care of myself!" Ashe protested puffing her chest outward and placing her fist on her hips haughtily, trying hard to look tough._

_Basch chuckled at the sight, "I bet you can but not tonight. There have been threats to breach our security and it is imperative that you return to the safety of the castle walls."_

"_B- But… I came all that way. I tried so hard to sneak pass the guards to get here so that I may help you. Now you don't want me here… Am I not worth anything to you anymore?" the child glowered pitifully as if her favorite Giza wolf pup had run away._

_His stern face softened, melting into one of compunction, instantly wanting to take back his words but he knew better. The princess was good at playing head games and was very stubborn to give up._

"_Lady Ashe you mean a lot to your mother and father. You mean a lot to Dalmasca and to its citizens as well," Basch preached._

"_But what about you, Basch? Don't I mean a lot to you too?"_

_Tears had begun to sparkle at the brims of her eyes as she fought hard to keep them from flowing over._

"_Yes, Lady Ashe… you mean a lot to me as well. Rest assured," he replied trying to calm the upset girl in front of him._

"_Then I can stay?!" _

_She quickly ran up to him, her face lit up with excitement, and clasped her hands tightly together like she was getting ready to beg for him to let her stay._

"_No."_

'_SLAP!!'_

"_Wha?" _

_Confusion riddled Basch's face as his right cheek stung horribly and the shadow of the young Ashe's agile retreat flickered away in the distance, a definitive path appearing after each footstep she left. _

_A clear sign of shock etched his face as he quietly muttered to himself, "What did I ever get myself into?" _

* * *

The Barheim Passage…

Pitch black faded into an opaque ambiance as Basch hesitantly opened his eyes. Everything around him that he could see was a different shade of gray, the fine details and crisp edges lost to the blurriness he was experiencing. A bittersweet silence plugged his ears, not a single noise he could hear except the deafening ring inside of his head, growing louder and louder with every throb.

A low grunt was expelled as he wrenched his eyelids closed hoping to rid the intensified screaming inside his brain. It was becoming so extreme that Basch thought he would have to bash his own head in to cease it until suddenly… it stopped and a wave of relief washed over his entire body relaxing him.

Not knowing what exactly had happened and afraid that the pain would return, he listlessly peeked from behind his closed lids to see that everything was as it should be. His vision renewed, nothing was blurred or distorted anymore, and only clean, clear and crisp images flooded his view. No more shrieking could be heard, only the small chunks of brick and rocks that tumbled and the anemic groans of his new visitors lain around him.

"Ugh, man my head," whimpered the teen in the near distance.

"Are you alright?" the rogue inquired, "Here, take this."

"What is it?"

"A potion! What does it look like? Now take it already, it will help that blaring migraine that you no doubt have."

Slowly Basch rolled himself into an upright position, crouching as he began to get the feeling of his tired bones touching the hard ground and the feel of having to support his own weight once again. His muscles protested, trembling from their lack of exercise and balling into tight knots as they cramped under the sudden burden. He rubbed at his arms and wrists that were also throwing spasm fits of their own, wincing whenever he came into contact with the nasty cuts created from his chains…

'Wait… they're gone! The chains… I'm free! They must have broken upon the impact'

His hands immediately flew up to his neck; franticly clasping at his shoulders and chest in search of the ghastly harness he had hung from. But to his excitement, he found the uncomfortable contraption absent and nothing but the red, aggravated and cut up flesh was touchable.

'Thank the Gods… freedom!'

The effort was made to stand but with no progress as Basch weaved from side to side, remaining in a squatted stance. It had been two long years since his exhausted feet had caressed any form of solid ground, always being carried or drug to and from his cage between his torturing sessions. Two excruciating years since his legs had to sustain any kind of ballast, their demur lessening with time as the constrictions were messaged away and the muscles soothed. Two tormented years since he had had any amount of freedom, any kind of laxity to do as he wished and it felt good to have it all back.

* * *

_Ok well what did ya think? Yeah I know I was going to try and make the two meet in this chapter but I just couldn't do it all in this one so I ended here... Sorry!! I will try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible and I can promise you that Ashe and Basch will be reunited in the next chapter! My favorite part... the slap! _

_Thanks again! Please be kind and leave a review!!_

_ landis icelilly _


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note:** OKAY!!! I'm still alive, not that it really mattered, but... I've finally decided to post this one of many parts to Chapter 12 now instead of waiting for who knows how long until I finally finish the thing! I know I had said I wasn't going to post this in pieces but.... meeehh... I'm tired of seeing it just sit on my hard drive. So, I'm just posting it anyways! And part two is nearly finished, not that is means anything with my outstanding record for quickness, lol! Last but not least, I haven't forgotten about all my wonderful friends that I've made on here and I'm truely sorry for being such a stranger the past year... the motivation to even look at my story isn't quite there anymore, but I will try to keep moving on with it. Anywho, on with the story!!!_

**_Dsclm: _**I own nothing, really!

**

* * *

****Chapter 12**

"Aaaaaaarrrrhhhhh!"

Just as Basch began to feel his bones again, a sudden tight and sweaty cold hand latched on to his neck, startling the man onto his rear and right out of his mirth. He hadn't known what hit him in his momentary daze. But seconds later he found its owner being the young, emotional blond who had caused this mess – the ruckus, the fall and the crash – who now was trying to mercilessly strangle him while pulling back an angered fist destined for his face. He was so shocked at the boy's knockback that he mechanically winced, closing an eye, in preparation for the punch and pulled a weak arm up hoping to block some of the force.

'_This is going to hurt!'_

But the impact never came. Peeking apprehensively, he was just in time to see Balthier interject, grabbing the riled teen's elbow and effortlessly tossed him aside onto the broken cobble floor with a thud.

Annoyed with the boy's rage for vengeance, Balthier quipped, "Spare us your quiddities!"

"Yeah, but - but he's a —"

"A traitor, _I know_," he cut in, hands posed on his hips. "Stay here and fight, if you want."

The boy was fuming, almost to the point of throwing a full on temper tantrum, as Basch scrutinized the exchange. Daggers were piercing his thin flesh left and right as this kid scowled hatefully toward him in resolute refusal to accept what was being told.

Next, Balthier whipped his head in Basch's direction and offered him his helping hand in alliance as he plainly stated, "If you can walk, let's go."

Basch nodded his thanks while taking hold of the rouge's outstretched hand and flinched when the teen, again, protested his accompaniment.

"You're taking him with us?!" he shrieked in disbelief.

Balthier rolled his eyes at the immature fit happening next to him - and the thought of dropping this teen off the side of the hover bike back then at the palace never felt so _tempting_ before - as he slowly hoisted Basch up to his unsteady feet, holding on to the frail man for a moment until he was confident that he wouldn't fall.

"We could use another sword arm."

It wasn't a question, it was an offer. You scratch my back, he'll scratch yours kind of thing. They had brought him an escape, freedom, at the time he needed it most and he was truly indebt to them, so it was only fit that he lend what services he could to help their cause. If they wished for his strength and support, then so be it, they would have every ounce of it, no further inquires would be made.

With a new feeling of vigor, Basch replied as he stood up, "And you have it."

An understanding was built between the two men as they shook hands, ignoring the mumbled gripes from behind Fran's tall feminine figure, before moving on down the poorly lit walkway.

* * *

Barely able to make out the floor's texture, let alone the direction it was heading, the three men heavily relied on the heightened senses of Balthier's viera partner, Fran, as Basch had finally been introduced to everyone, to guide them from harm.

Her petite bunny-like nose twitched periodically, catching any scents that would be cause for alarm, as her statuesque ears ticked rhythmically scanning the dead air for the minutest of disturbances, along with the clarity of her crimson eyes giving her the gift of nocturnal sight. Fran, partly leading the way because the young teen, learned to be Vaan, had pushed his way to the front hoping to gain his pride back somehow - by thinking he knew the way - followed closely and had placed a hand on his shoulder when she saw the danger coming in front of him which his Hume eyes would not allow him to see.

"Stop," her stoic purr echoed, "The stone becomes uneven here."

The boy looked at her and snarled, slightly raising his upper lip in an irritated fashion.

"Ah, then we proceed with great caution. Wouldn't do us anymore good to suffer from two left feet and get all scraped up," Balthier glibly remarked stopping behind Fran.

"I will go first. Then you can follow," she replied curtly.

Now irate, Vaan yanked himself out of her long fingered grasp and continued trekking oblivious to what was in front of him, negligent to her warnings.

"Vaan, I don't think that is a very good idea. You should listen to Fra—"

"I know what I'm doing!" he snapped as he shot Balthier a menacing glare not paying any attention to where he was going, his footing abruptly falling out from under him.

In a blink of an eye, the boy's body disappeared from their sights and horrible cries shot from the blackness before them, decreasing in volume as he became farther away from the trio. The sounds of crumbling rock, scrapping skin and battle armor sparking from friction filled their ears, the three mentally wincing with every audible _'thud'_ Vaan made on the way down.

"Like all teenagers, it would be a wonder if he actually _listened_. Fran, what was that all about?"

"Stairs," she answered without expression, cocking her head nonchalantly thought her eyes gave away her enjoyment.

Slowly and carefully, the three traversed the blackened stairwell, Fran obviously leading the way since Balthier nor Basch wanted to repeat Vaan's little mistake, until they reached a flat stretch of pathway and the rumpled up blond-headed body of the ingenious teen.

"Uuugh," Vaan groaned as the sky pirate rolled him over with the toe of his black leathered boot so that he was lying on his back.

"Fun ride?" Balthier threw out, his silky voice sounding volumes louder that it really was inside of the boy's pounding head.

"No!"

"Well then get up. This is no time to be lying around."

* * *

Meanwhile, as the pirate and the boy snottily exchanged words, Fran had managed to find something that resembled a power supply generator of some sort. Of course, the main switch happened to be located at the opposite end of the skinny plank which looked as if it was going to crumble at the slightest gust of air.

"Look, there is a power source," she called over her shoulder, ceasing the quarrel behind her.

"Well, let's take a look see, shall we?" Balthier answered immediately changing his priority from the boy to the generator as he walked over to the plank she was standing on.

When he got close to the switch he was able to make out the characteristics of the lever and the box with all the wiring harnesses inside by the tiny faint light that flickered above, struggling to keep illuminated.

"Hmm."

Balthier studied the contraption for a couple moments making sure it wasn't dangerous and then proceeded to pull the iron lever upward hoping it would do something.

It clicked, then clunked and that was it.

"Huh. Guess it's not working," Vaan piped up, startling the pirate when he hadn't realized how close the boy had gotten to him.

He rolled his eyes at the obvious then further searched the masses of dusty and frayed wires finding the problem almost instantly. Taking his hand, Balthier grasped the busted glass tube and weaved it back out of the fuse box, examining it more closely when he held it up to the feeble lamp.

"Hm… the fuse is blown. That would explain why there's no power reaching the switch," he proclaimed turning back to the ancient alternator to scrutinize it further, "If the wiring is any indication, I'd say this is a central power relay of some sort. As it stands, I doubt we'll find much still running down here."

"Then what should we do? We can't very well escape this underground prison without our sight," Basch finally cut in.

"I don't think we can find an electrician down here, Captain. And I'm afraid I am fresh out of fuses," the pirate remarked smartly, "So I say we send Vaan into the passage first."

"Ok… HEY! Wait a minute!" Vaan stuttered not catching his jab too fast.

* * *

Finally the party decided to regroup knowing that they had no other choice but to navigate the halls blindly… well semi-blindly since Fran could still make out the landscape, but none the less, an unavoidable handicap.

Basch hated not being able to see what was preparing to assault him, the sudden flash of an enemy's mug in his face did little to keep him from a heart attack, but at the same time it gave him new life and a huge adrenaline rush making him feel younger than he really was, keeping him on his toes. The only problem, though, was the fact that he was unarmed and without armor since the Archadians were so kind as to strip him of it during his _cozy _stay, so the only combat he could do was close-range hand to hand. Something that not even Basch was sure he could muster right now in his ill state. He would just have to wait and find out as everyone started to move, with Fran maneuvering through the almost pitch black void with Vaan followed by Balthier and then Basch bringing up the end.

Once again, with just a few feet travelled, the Viera suddenly stopped and this time, so did Vaan, who had learned his lesson the hard way from previous experience; however, Balthier wasn't too sharp to notice. He was busy tossing the worn out fuse over the edge of the railing that was visible, that he crashed right into him. The collision was strong enough to knock Vaan forward and make him physically vanish into the darkness, but not vocally, as more hollers and wails spewed from his mouth every time his poor bruised up body struck an object.

"Let me guess… more stairs?" Balthier sallied as he adjusted his barely wrinkled cuffs in a huff.

Fran nodded and Basch shook his head sympathetically.

"Errrm," Vaan moaned when he lethargically hoisted himself off the ground.

Looking ahead, his features lit up making him forget his new lumps and bumps as he caught sight of another shuttering glow. It highlighted an outline of what resembled another switch.

"Hey guys!" he called walking toward the mechanism, "I think I found another swit—"

Something hit the floor with a loud _'smack''_ and the crushing of pottery filled in the silence afterwards.

"You found a _sa-wit_?" Balthier inquired confused but only received a shrill shriek for an answer.

"AAHH! Something is down here!! It's grabbing me! HELP!"

"SHHH! Calm down my boy! I mean no harm," a gravelly voice appeared from thin air.

"Who goes there? Name yourself!" Basch demanded, his old instincts kicking back in gear.

"My name be Burrogh, sir."

By now they had scurried down to the main floor and where Vaan now stood studying the figure cloaked in the corner.

Discovering the new switch box, Balthier hoped that it would bring power to this mammoth piece of junk as he shoved the lever up, clearly ignoring the mysterious form.

It clunked then clicked this time, but again that was all.

"Hunk of junk," he grumbled quietly. Only Fran was able to hear with her super-sensitive ears, and flashed him a scowl.

Basch walked up next to Vaan peering suspiciously at the blackened shape situated on the rubble. "Show yourself, Burrogh, so that we may see you not as a threat."

"Aye," he croaked, flopping himself down onto some lower stones, closer to the pale light. "Don' get many visitors down here. Nice when someone comes topplin my ways."

Though the lighting did little good for impressions, Basch could clearly make out that Burrogh was indeed a Bangaa. His skin tough and scaly from hanging around these parts for too long, the moisture sucked dry from it, and those long blue webbed fingers and toes were distinctive characteristics of the race.

Burrogh sniffed the two men closest to him catching their scents - Basch's probably being the most pungent since his last bath involved a good amount of Seeq slobber - and then the creature cleared his throat and roughly spoke.

"You come scavengin' fer odds and ends, have you?"

"Not exactly, we need to find the way out," Basch replied.

"Oh, the way out? It's just back up those stairs—"

"Nope, they're gone. Smashed to smithereens," Vaan interjected before he was even finished.

"To smithereens, you say?!" Burrogh lowered his head, bringing a clawed hand up to his chin in thought, "then there's nothin' left but to find some other way out through these tunnels. You'll need to get the power workin' again, 'fore that gate'll budge, though."

Finally Balthier butted in, "And how do you suppose we do that? Those relays only click and clunk at us."

"The fuse in that contraption up the stairs is blown…"

"I could have told you that one..."

"But this oughta fix it up," he quickly rummaged through his bag and found the needed part, handing it to the edgy sky pirate.

Balthier took the piece and examined the tied up hunks of scrap metal and glass, then retorted, "What's this wad of oddments going to do? It looks like a chewed up rifle barrel to me."

"Made that tube fuse from parts I found down in these very tunnels. It's good as any you'll find, and better 'an most, mark my words," he snapped back at his silver remarks.

* * *

The tube fuse was quickly installed and the power relay was switched on, illuminating the darkened tunnels. Then the gate's power was turned on and the rusty iron bars screamed to life when they opened – to everyone's surprise, especially Balthier's - giving the group access to the rest of the Barheim Passage.

Before they continued their journey through the gates, Burrogh gave a friendly warning letting everyone know that if the charge drops too low, "some fierce beasts start comin' out in the dark." He also advised the four that they would need at least thirty percent power to operate anything as large as the gate in this room or else they might want to forget seeing blue sky.

Basch kindly thanked the scruffy blue Bangaa before proceeding through the metal gateway with the rest of his new acquaintances. As they all entered the next room, a surprise was awaiting them. Some were of the four-legged variety and others were a little less… alive, shall we put it.

The hall had opened up into some kind of expansive stone chamber, similar to the brickwork that Basch had to stare at for every waking hour while in the dungeon. It was supported in the center by two… or was it three… cement pillars, one being partially disintegrated in the middle, that ascended into the ceiling, forming beautifully curving arches, all made with various types of stone.

Thick cords of wiring decorated the walls, the domes and even the center pillars with the large gray strands spiraling downward to the broken floor where they laid haphazardly everywhere. Who knew where they went or what they came from; Basch thought he could have spent hours following each and every wire in that place and not found a single origin for any of them.

He seriously wondered how the Passage was even completed, let alone worked without a fire, with this sort of idiocy all over the place!

But he had to give the contractors a little credit, the architecture was absolutely amazing, save for the imperfections of time and age, and gave an otherwise dark and scary tunnel unique character. Limestone, granite and black marble all assembled into something truly extraordinary creating brilliantly symmetrical structures that almost masked those inside the Dalmascan Palace from years earlier, but obviously these had many, many more centuries passed over them than the palace and lacked major restoration.

"Hey! Who turned out the lights?" Vaan cried when the lights began to strobe, breaking Basch out of his admiring. Quickly, they found the culprit at the end of the hall, "one of those?"

In the far corner to the left, a very large blue and neon green arachnid was hungrily chewing on one of the power lines, slurping up every last drop it could of the tasty electricity causing the lighting to flicker and dim.

"I've heard of these: Mimics. They disguise themselves as all manner of things, and then strike when you're least wary. Some of them have a fondness for energy, I'm told. They gorge themselves on the stuff till there's naught left," Balthier informed.

"So… what happens then?"

Suddenly, as if to answer the boy, a vile, rotting corpse materialized out of the ground, moaning and groaning horrifically as drool filtered through its carious teeth and down its festering skin. It had no life or color, just decaying gray skin which clung to its visible bones waiting to be torn off like bark on a river birch tree, flaky and withered past its purpose. A putrid stench quickly over took the air causing Vaan to pinch his nose closed to avoid retching at the smell of such rancid breath mixed with the scent of decomposing flesh, as the thing slugged toward them.

"Lights out. And it's much worse in the dark. _Much worse._" Balthier emphasized, beginning to ready his pistol which he had nicely pilfered back from the '_Archadian Prison Repository of Wrested Relics and Raiments.' _

He continued, "so, let them get too close to one of those conduits and they'll suck it dry. But don't worry."

Vaan abruptly looked at the sky pirate with an incredulous expression, thinking exactly how was he _not_ suppose to worry when there was a five foot high, seriously huge robotic spider in the room and a half-dead person who really could use a lesson or two in hygiene, dragging itself toward him!

"It'll give the energy back if you ask nicely. Sticking it with a sword helps too. Clocks ticking!"

In a flash, Vaan and the ex-knight jumped into the fray taking up the close-ranged combat while Balthier maintained the advantage by giving long-ranged cover for the two men up front and Fran, as well, kept her distance firing her Silver Bow, providing support.

* * *

"_Ashelia" _

_A faint whisper, barely audible, in the nighttime breeze that carried the quiet beckoning like a loose chocobo feather, startled the slumbering princess. It called, lulling and soft to her ears, sort of like a hummed melody creating a hypnotic essence around her. _

_Once opening her tired, bloodshot eyes, she quickly became confused, hastily turning to find that nothing was behind her. Just a tranquil and unfamiliar scene high up in some wooded, green canopied forest with dark wooden planked walkways that were all roped together creating some form of accessibility through this strange place. _

_The trees were large, thick at the trunks and very rotund and plump at the top, with fresh and healthy, vivid green leaves blocking out almost all the moonlight above her. Twisted vines accented almost every trunk and limb, cris-crossing here and there between the gaps above her head and below her feet. Some produced gorgeous hibiscus blooms, all in various lucid colors, which brought this all too creepy picture a radiance and beauty not commonly found without looking for it._

_Ashe felt the moderate zephyr brush against her cheeks, cooling the heat filling them, and felt almost content that this was a safe setting when it finally encompassed her, bringing a wave of comfort to drown her fears. She reluctantly let her sleepy lids flutter shut over her calm blue orbs once more and her achy body became weightless, her eyes rolling up into her head, when she let the gentle gusts cushion her, summiting to its tranquility. _

"_Ashelia"_

_There it was again. This time it was louder, still a whisper but more distinct and almost right next to her ear. _

_Ashe jumped, awoken in a panic, and in her frenzy to get as far away from the mysterious voice as she could, she hadn't noticed that one of her boots was entangled in the fat vine rope holding the bridge together and she abruptly fell to her hands and knees. _

_Her heart raced a million beats per second it felt like suddenly, as it drummed inside her chest. Small beads of sweat formed at her temples (… had it gotten hotter here?) and she was laboring for breath, finding it harder to take in the midnight's sweet air. _

_She peered out into the distance in front of her, and again saw nothing, the scenery fading to darkness. _

_This was becoming ridiculous. She knew she wasn't just hearing voices in her thoughts. Surely she hadn't lost her sanity either. _

_Ashe tried to call out, to at least establish communication with whomever-- or whatever-- was haunting her, but not a single sound was heard. Not a peep, scream or whisper left that petite little mouth. Absolutely nothing._

_Disconcerted, she brought her fingers up to her lips and was taken by surprise when she felt them cold and trembling to the touch._

_What happened to her voice? _

_What was going on?_

"_Don't be afraid, Ashe."_

_The words were soothing and soft, but were deep and distinctly spoken by a man; strength and confidence dripping from every annunciation as they came to her ears. A sweet melody that had been played before but she couldn't exactly picture whom, for it had been too long. _

_He spoke again._

"_Please."_

_Nervous habits took over. She began to shiver when the chills crept up her spine and she apprehensively started to nip at her already short fingernails, not really realizing what she was doing._

"_Don't worry your fingers like that," he spoke mildly from behind while attentively resting a tender hand on her shoulder, "You know I will not harm you."_

_The stranger's touch was warm and gentle but Ashe was still taken by the unexpected sensation, quickly whirling around onto her rear, in a crab walk position, and gasped in shock, and horror, at the person she saw looming over her._

'_You!' she had wanted to say, but again, not even a squeak could be squeezed out at the six-foot tall, blond-headed figure. _

_A slight five o' clock shadow of golden stubble was visible and nicely highlighted his perfectly angulated jaw line, framing every handsome feature about his face. She remembered each and every one of them like it was yesterday, as the memories came flooding into her mind, from the pale pink flesh of his slightly up-curving lips, which had kept concealed her special smile that he would show only to her, to those absolutely captivating icy blue eyes that seemed to sparkle every time she would gaze into them. _

_Broad shoulders gave him structural stability to his defiant, but noble, stance and set the blue-print for the rest of his muscularly toned body. His arms and legs showed his years of rigorous training, nicely formed, but not overly too bulky, and the sight of his almost washboard abdomen and chest was like candy to her. She couldn't help but sneak a peek or two--or three--at it. She had been helpless to avoid him._

_He took a step toward her and she slid herself equally away, not too sure what to make of all this. Cocking his head with a perplexed look on his face, he tried again and she repeated the same reaction._

"_Do you not trust me?" he spoke with a hurt tone._

_She wanted to. Her body and heart screamed for her to. But her mind, thoughts and most importantly, the memories, stopped her and told her otherwise._

_The image of Ashe's dead husband, Prince Rasler, flashed in front of her, reliving it all-- that night, the funeral and the burial. It had been a cruel blessing; she had wished him to feel the pain and deception that he had put her through on their wedding night but she had never wanted what he was dealt… his death. _

_Rasler had been taught to be greedy but she knew there could be a chance to change him for the better. To teach him that not all things in leadership require avidity or constraint, but her ambitions would be useless._

_It was plain to assume, on that night, he was dead the instant Basch carried the ghostly pale man into the Great Hall of the Palace, his limbs flaccid and drooping inanimately from his body and the dark liquid smears down the front of the Captain's uniform. The fancy gold armored plates that encased the prince's body were now coated a rich red and dripped his dark congealing blood from all edges. _

_Though Basch's expression remained indifferent, Ashe could see the turmoil in his eyes as he briskly marched past; giving her a better glance at the ghastly injury to Rasler's neck where the fatal arrow had been broken off leaving a blood soaked stump protruding from the wound. _

_She had felt no pain in her heart, she had felt no joy either… she really didn't know what to feel. She had been in such confusion the day of the wake and the night of the burial that she had just forged her sorrow and fooled those around into thinking nothing had been unordinary with her relationship to Prince Rasler, and it had worked flawlessly._

"_Ashe,"_

_She was shaken from her reverie, completely baffled to where she was and what had just happened until she looked up into those aqua colored irises of her ex-guardian. Her eyes grew wide, and everything, again, came crashing back._

_Ashe remembered the terrible news Vossler had brought informing her of King Raminas's, her father's, untimely death. She had been desolate and completely inconsolable, but what pushed the envelope even further was the revelation that her protector, Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg, was indeed her father's murderer. It was total devastation. She didn't know who she could put her trust in anymore and over time the betrayal caused her to be solitaire, depended on no one but herself, eventually fueling her anger, forcing her to truly hate the knight._

_Small clips of a dream she had dreamt most recently after the King's death, played over and over in her head causing her to ignore all the inquiries that she could no longer determine who they were from, here and now or inside her riddled head. She ingested everything of this nightmare, the Captain, with his Excalibur in hand, quickly jabbing the defenseless royal in the gut at the Treaty signing with a merciless joy plastered on his face. And her father's insistent pleas for his life to be spared as he spoke calming words of reason to try and sway the crazed knight from his murderous plight._

_The blond man standing in front of Ashe watched intently with curiosity as the princess looked far away within her own thoughts, her expressions and emotions flickering wildly the longer she kept inside herself. _

_Careful to not startle her, which might prove impossible, he crouched down before her, placing both of his hands on her shoulders and firmly grasped them, shaking her back to the present. _

"_Huh?" she mumbled in a fuzz as her eyes began to flutter when she came out of her daze._

"_Is everything alright?" he questioned truly concerned._

_Ashe blinked a couple times to clear her head of the fog when she instantly laid eyes on him, the traitor, the kingslayer and her father's murderer. It was so very clear to her now and she was right to trust her hunch versus his trustworthiness._

_Tactfully, she swatted his hands off and scrambled as far away as she could until her backside smacked into a stump near the end of the pathway. Though the words wouldn't be heard, Ashe still screamed as hard as she could._

_He tried to advance on her in hopes of comforting her but stop abruptly, his face suddenly pained, when he interpreted her lips._

'_I __**hate**__ you Basch fon Ronsenburg!' _

* * *

"I HATE YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE!" the princess cried in her sleep.

The Imperial guards on duty in this wing of the ward, rushed to her cell. Afraid that someone had broken through the security checkpoints and was trying to assassinate her before Vayne got what he needed, they unlocked the padlocked and barred door hastily, shoving it open to find her completely unharmed.

All the unnecessary hype had created a loud clamor, so when the hatch was busted open it filled the tiny cubicle with all the metal racket sending Ashe shooting upright, scaring her wide awake.

"What is the meaning for all this!" she demanded crankily for the rude alarm.

"You are unharmed?" one of the soldiers asked ignoring her shrewdness.

"Yes, I am fine."

"What's the meaning of this commotion?" boomed a militant tone, though it wasn't very discernable in its muffled bark.

"Sir! There were screams heard coming from the Lady Ashe's quarters. We investigated the area but it seems that her Highness was merely having a bad dream."

The Imperial soldier twitched nervously with his sharp movements, saluting his superior in robotic fashion, when confronted by the helmed Judge. Stiffly, the Judge marched past his insubordinates and into the cell room stopping directly in front of the princess, who, at the moment, wasn't very pleased with all the company.

Ashe watched in agitation as the Judge's plainly etched helmet followed its owner's head downward, the hollow eyelets scanning inch by inch of her body. It stopped when he noticed her bloodied arm, the stitches ripped and the wound reopened, but most of it was dry and crusted all over her arm.

Without looking away, the Judge called to the guards, "Bring me a med kit."

Nobody hesitated, they didn't dare question a Judge, no matter what rank.

Just as noisily as when they barged in, the soldiers left to heed the man's request leaving the cell empty save for Ashe and the lesser Judge still staring at her.

"Like what you see?"

It was a snotty reply but it was enough to gain the man's attention back and away from her body.

"No, not exactly," he said bluntly, returning his position to her.

She cocked her brow, signaling for him to explain. The Judge merely nodded his head toward her injury, stating, "You are hurt."

His voice was calm, almost custodial, when he spoke now that no one else was present. His demeanor was unusual, he was very altruistic and warmhearted in his body language and tones as he communicated, something an ordinary Archadian soldier disregards.

Now, knelt on one knee before her, the Judge gently tried to lift her damaged arm but Ashe quickly yanked it away, an eye twitching when the pain shot out.

"I can tend to myself," she huffed.

"Please, your Highness, these injuries need proper medical attention or infection will fester," he coaxed trying to reach for her hand again.

She looked at the cloaked person uneasily, skeptical of his trustworthiness, her eyes narrowing into slits when she tried to read him. He was nervous, she knew. His armors rattled the slightest when he exhaled a shaky breath, almost afraid to touch her or even be near. The hand that held on quivered, just barely, but enough to sense it tremble through her own. Who was this Judge? And why was he so apprehensive?

"Why are you doing this?" Ashe inquired in a softer voice, confused.

"It is my duty to see that you stay well and are taken care of."

Sarcastically, Ashe rolled her eyes. Fine bloody Inn this was. Guess bed sheets and pillows were extra in Archadia. And don't even think about room service.

"Now let me take a look at that wound. No doubt it aches," he soothed.

"That—"

Ashe was cut short as he held his plated glove up to silence her argument, noticeably agitated by the fact that his medical kit had not arrived fast enough, and quickly stormed out. Somebody was going to get an ear full later, she could only imagine. Moments passed before he returned with said case in hand, placing it at his feet, and then closed the bulky cell door behind him.

This had put Ashe in a stupor as she nervously watched when he popped the metallic case open displaying a bunch of medieval-looking medical equipment and supplies. She could only imagine some of the torturous things he could do with the tools she spotted inside and quickly, she fought the fearful panic chewing at her gut.

"This is not necessary, Judge…" she paused suddenly remembering that she didn't know his name since they hadn't been formally introduced.

But he caught on, finishing it for her, "Emeric, Judge Emeric."

"Judge Emeric," she repeated. Her voice was broken and sounded all wrong in her ears as it choked out her lips.

Without hesitation, he reached for her cradled limb once more and Ashe instinctively jerked it away again, uncertainty waging war inside her head.

A loud sigh escaped from under his helmet. "Lady Ashelia, please. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Cautiously, she lowered her arm, her hand resting in the out stretched palm of his glove, just like a moment ago, allowing permission for him to proceed. Something about his now halcyon demeanor begged her to trust him even though he was the heartless enemy, the scum that plagued her kingdom.

"Thank you," he breathed and went to work peeling the useless, bloodied bandages away.

Ashe watched in silence, finally, as the guard gently tended to her wounds, never once being harsh or rough. This confounded her even more. A compassionate Imperial? And a Judge, no less.

"Why are you doing this?" she blurted out again, truly not understanding this person. How could he be an Imperial Judge and still have a heart?

Judge Emeric continued to work as he spoke, finishing the tedious stitchery on her arm with dexterity. "Like I already told you. My job is to see to your safety while aboard this airship. Your wellbeing is my top priority."

"I understand your orders, but why this?" she gestured with her free hand toward the medical case, "Why not send a healer to do this job? Why bother yourself with such a trivial matter? "

The tenor in his voice changed, becoming soft and jovial. It sounded like he could have been smiling but she would have never known because of that stupid helm blocking his face underneath. "Personally, I never cared for their healing magics. Too unnatural in my opinion."

Ashe levied an eyebrow. The conversation was taking on a casual note and it fueled her curiosity. She would have to exploit this as much as she could if it would, indeed, work in her favor.

"Too unnatural? Explain yourself."

"Yes, _very_ unnatural." He spoke calmly as the menacing helm shook from side to side. "It feels as if you are having an 'out of body' experience. You see yourself; well your body, actually, void of your essence, through a distant fog for a short time before your body reconnects to its… spirit, if you will. All the while, scorching flames liquidate your veins, surging everywhere your blood emanates, and all you can do is scream in agonizing silence. Quite undesirable."

Emeric stopped for a split second, looking up to weigh Ashe's reaction, before continuing. To his acknowledgement, she was truly immersed in his opinion. Her expression one of true interest since her only experience with healing magics ended very badly and left her with little desire to further her education in the subject.

"But, with a couple minutes of agony comes relief. The soothing cool floats over your body, soaking into the depths of it and squelching the roaring blaze in an instant. Then, it's all over, like nothing had ever happened."

"But when somebody is already in that much pain, they couldn't possibly feel the intensity of the Cure spell's side-effects. The relief granted would be enough of a reward for enduring such," Ashe rebuked.

"Yes, undoubtedly so," Emeric agreed.

"Then why?" she pressed; stumped that he agreed with her views but still preferred to support his own.

A small chuckle escaped keeping the atmosphere light, which she greatly appreciated. "You might think less of me for my true reasoning."

She snorted in disagreement. "You're an Imperial Judge. That gives me sufficient reason to think lowly enough of you," she pointed out, a faint smirk appearing on her lips.

"Good point."

The gaudy helm now tilted towards her, almost shamefully, and sighed, "The truth is that I can't stand the awful migraines afterwards. Turns my stomach inside out, if you know what I mean."

'_Oh please. It couldn't be that bad! Grow a pair… really!'_

"And just when I thought I couldn't think any lower…" She mumbled mostly to herself but the Judge still heard her remark and laughed heartily despite the jab at his ego.

"There. I trust that you will be healed in a few days time, your Highness."

Sudden surprise caught Ashe off guard as he cleaned up and packed the kit in record time. She had been so interested in his strange-- and rather childish—reason for not ordering a healer to do the job he just did, that she hadn't even noticed the slight ending tug when he was finished, her arm securely stitched and bandaged again. He then turned and quietly began to leave.

He had to. He was already bending protocol beyond his clearance as it was, but he couldn't let her know that. She would only inquire further about his uncharacteristically odd behavior and possibly put her in greater danger.

"Wait!"

He still hadn't given Ashe an adequate answer to _why_ he had done this. Yes, she knew he had been instructed to oversee her care but not on a personal level. Vayne wasn't _that_ Hume, that was for certain. There was definitely another explanation that she gathered he was hiding and she knew only by the way he had delicately touched her, like she could instantly break with the slightest pressure; by the way he had cared for her, that there was something that went far deeper inside.

Emeric was halted by her plea; his back remained to her and his breath suddenly caught in his throat.

Ashe chewed her bottom lip, uncertain now, if she really wanted to know as she gazed at her hands resting in her lap, trying to gain some courage before slowly asking, "Why?"

"You seem to fancy that word, Princess. Please, explain." his voice was filled with confusion and ambiguity, but it stayed strong.

"You never told me _why_ you are _really_ doing this."

He released his breath in a silent gust, his shoulders slouched with exhaustion. The Princess was too keen and he had to choose his words carefully, keeping them controlled as he spoke, "I didn't want to see you endure anymore pain. You don't deserve what they—we have done to you."

The warmth and sincerity he communicated stunned her. She inhaled sharply and looked up just in time to notice that he had his head turned and had been peeking at her from the corner of his eye—not that she could actually see them—over his plated shoulder.

"I am truly sorry," he barely whispered.

But before she could calm the shock to speak again, to say anything that could keep the one friendly attachment she had in this room with her, he had disappeared outside the cell door, effectively leaving her mystified.

* * *

The days flew by and, soon, so did the weeks. Ashe's prison had no windows, only bare walls, which prevented her from watching the rise and fall of the sun or anything that could remotely constitute as a timepiece. Only after learning the routine feeding schedule they carried out, delivering mouse-sized portions of yokeless scrambled eggs and plain old burnt toast for breakfast accompanied by a half-gil sized cockatrice medallion-- clearly it had to be past sanitary codes-- and stale potatoes for dinner, could she begin to decipher and count the days of her imprisonment.

So far, it had been exactly fourteen days since her capture. Two weeks of complete boredom, and no more sightings of the Judge, gave her too much time alone with her thoughts; soon, she probably would lose herself.

The repetition at which her food came was like clockwork. Every morning and every night the same thing; the hatch at the bottom of the door would open and the ancient metal pie plate of rancid grub would be kicked in, sending it skittering across the floor. The panel would then slam shut and she would be graced with only fifteen minutes to eat before the jailer came to reclaim the dish, fully expecting the contents to be consumed. That meant, in turn, fifteen god-awful minutes of having to smell such putrid shit; fifteen minutes of painful attempts to stop the dry heaves before retching up air and, sadly, there wasn't even a single vent to lessen the severity of the stench. Ashe had to pinch her nostrils shut and breath through her mouth in order to keep from passing out.

It was obvious, just by the agitated manner at which the Imperial soldier snatched up her filled plate, that he was miffed at her reluctance to eat. She figured he was getting a verbal reprimand every time he came back with an untouched meal in his hands and after two weeks of continuous scolding, she would be fed up with herself too. But the repulsiveness always killed her appetite, refusing to even think of putting anything that bad near her lips… yuck! Think again.

Undeniably, Ashe would rather starve than be forced to choke down green speckled meat and charred bread, plus, Vayne could be trying to poison her; one less obstacle in his path to world domination.

But, this was the case; she was already malnourished, some of her features had become slightly boney, and she continued to deprive her body more of the sustenance it desperately needed. At that instant, a loud grumble groaned from her stomach and begged for something to fill its empty void. She refused to succumb to her needs and tightly wrapped her arms around her aching abdomen, trying to hold herself together and force the nausea away.

Suddenly, Ashe heard the lock to her cell click loudly and the iron door grinded open. There in the archway stood Vayne himself, flanked on either side by an Imperial bodyguard, and backed by the previously astray, Judge Emeric. All but the Judge stormed the tight space. He seemed very averse about entering, like something bad was going to happen and opted to remain stationed in the corridor never glancing once into the room.

A scowl graced her features when her stomach, again, rudely complained. The noise echoed resonantly inside and Vayne cockily raised his brow, "Hmm, you do not eat well, your Highness."

"I eat just fine, what's it to you?" Ashe sneered, but its bite was dramatically nullified by another growl. _'Dammit! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up!!!'_

"I see our hospitality doesn't appease you. I clearly can _hear_ that," Vayne scoffed, a smug grin itching at his lips.

"Forgive me for thinking that the Archadian menu choices are a bit too poor and distasteful for my likes."

Vexation flickered through his strange teal orbs but he still managed a chuckle and the presumptuous smirk effectively plastered itself to Ashe's face as she toyed with him. But quickly he became serious, his face hardening, signaling that playtime was over. He meant business now and she mimicked the same, putting up her stone-cold façade as well.

His eyes drilled into her before he motioned to his guards a command. With a faint nod, they instantly responded and swarmed her; the first forcefully yanked her up from the metal cot and restrained her arms behind her back. The second drew a large syringe out of a small case and satiated it full of some bizarre blue liquid and then, after removing the needle from the vial, proceed toward the Princess.

All the color drained from her face and her stormy eyes grew wide and fierce. She remained calm as best she could to hide the qualm behind her perfectly illustrated mask as she growled, "You wouldn't dare!"

"Now, Lady Ashe, I think you should know by now that I would," he quipped smoothly. His wide grin was contemptuous and his sinister gaze became more vivacious by the soldier's every step.

Ashe struggled impetuously against her captor's vice-like grip to no avail. She shot a gander at the distant Judge in hopes for help and was dumbfounded when she saw that he remained frozen despite her strife. His blatant negligence sent her ablaze; instantly regaining her vigor. After all that talk about not deserving to be treated so harshly and he had the nerve to ignore it all!

Guess she was on her own now.

A tiny stream of liquid cascaded out the needle end as the multi-trained Imperial Marksman removed all the air bubbles inside the syringe before he advanced his subject. Seconds raced by and Ashe was wrangling for an idea to keep the guard at bay. She had to do something to keep that funky stuff out of her blood. There was no telling what would happen.

Finally, as a last ditch effort—and the only thing she could come up with—Ashe braced her back against the Hoplite restraining her and abruptly swung a heavily armored boot at the oncoming target; a satisfactory _'crunch'_ filling the thick air when it forcefully met the man's groin. The syringe immediately dropped to the floor the instant the soldier doubled over, grabbing himself in agony, and fell to his knees with a loud groan.

Ashe could hear a stifled snicker escape from behind her, but Vayne's expression became even more indignant as he nodded a hushed command toward his guard, which quickly deadened the air. In an agitated huff, Vayne bowed down and picked up the loaded instrument himself; always having to clean up after everyone's screw-ups and coolly ordered, "Ivick, do it."

The Hoplite acknowledged and slithered his glove around Ashe's neck, prying her head back to expose the jugular artery. She fought hard against his strength, straining to look down, but it was useless.

"What do you want from me, Vayne?" Because of her compromised position, her words were moaned more than spoken.

"You've already been informed, Lady Ashe."

"Then I am of no more use to you, release me! You have your answer!" Ashe demanded as she tried to pull an arm free, but it was impossible.

The disgusting sneer reappeared as he answered, "Incorrect. You are still of great value to me."

He took a step closer, the syringe twirling between his fingers.

"This is against the law! If Emperor Gramis were to hear of this—"

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it. You see, what he doesn't know won't hurt him," he chuckled executing another step.

Ashe swallowed hard, a sunken feeling gnawed at her insides, "What more could you possibly…"

Vayne's devilish smirk grew into a full-blown, toothy smile when she suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes growing wide when reality hit her upside the head with the truth. He needed her because she knew every single movement of the Resistance. She knew every battle formation and strategy. Every piece of information they could ever get their hands on of the Archadian military and the Imperial strategies. And more importantly, she knew of Marquis Ondore's secret involvement and issuing of funds to support the Resistance. Ashe was the key to everything Dalmasca was protecting and she knew Vayne would strike gold if he could just get it out of her.

His heinous laugh saturated the cell, amplified by the bare steel walls, as he rested the tip of the needle on the skin at her neck. "Do you finally understand your worth to me? I have many questions and you have my answers, Majesty."

"You'll never get them! I won't talk!"

"Haha, sadly, I know this already. If you weren't as stubborn as a Victanir, I wouldn't have to be giving you this newly developed serum."

"I am not some laboratory rat to be manipulated!," she sallied curtly.

"My scientists will greatly appreciate your sacrifice." Vayne praised in a sickeningly sweet tone, while the needle proceeded to break the fine skin, "Now, this shouldn't hurt a bit."

'_Liar!'_

Just as it pierced and the serum entered her blood, tremendous pain shot through her body like wildfire. Her veins blazed with extreme heat and her body felt like it was beginning to boil. In total agony, her eyes rolled up into her head as she thrashed against the soldier to free herself from the torment. It felt like she was being burned from the inside out, droplets of sweat trickled down her forehead, and her harrowing screams bathed the dead ward until finally, the tube was empty and it was all in her system.

Panting through clenched teeth, Ashe snarled, "You bastard!"

"Now, now, Lady Ashe. Where are your manners?" Vayne chuckled enjoying every moment of her furry, "That sort of language is for foul-mouth soldiers and crummy, dirty little pirates. Quite unacceptable for a beautiful Princess."

"Take your manners and shove them where the sun doesn't shine…" Ashe mumbled under her breath so that he couldn't hear the rude retort.

"My Lord?"

The Hoplite that restrained the extremely irate Princess interrupted, ceasing the banter. His tone was an inquiring one, which subconsciously signaled Vayne to check the time crystal under his gauntlet before responding.

"Sixty seconds," his head nodded once, "Release her."

With her eyes narrowed, Ashe yanked both arms free and flexed her sore joints with minor relief. She was very leery of this questionable arrangement as she hesitantly scanned the room, from the soldier behind her to his untrustworthy lordship standing adjacent. A snort abruptly liberated and tiny giggles bounced from her mouth, "Might I suggest the Imperial Government use their money to hire a _qualified _scientist next time. Whatever the purpose of this drug might be, it has failed because I feel none of its effects."

Vayne raised a comical brow at the smug retort, smirking crookedly, "Nothing?"

"None."

And it was the true. Well… partly. Nothing felt abnormal inside or outside. Nothing felt wrong or askew about her body either. She couldn't feel a damn thing and that seemed unexpectedly odd. Everything was still there; everything was still appropriately in place and intact like it should be. No worries right?

Wrong.

That's when it all sunk in and realization reared its ugly head to bite her in the back. Her hand shot up to her face, her lips, her neck and then her arms. Nothing. Franticly, she clutched her hand and pinched as hard as she could the tips of every single one of her fingertips. Still nothing. Ashe's body could no longer acknowledge any kind of sensation. Her skin was no longer able to perceive the frigid draft in the cold cell nor could it sense the heat that flushed her checks.

She looked up with a fearful expression and met the total darkness of Vayne's eyes. His smile was heartless and cold as he clasped his neatly gloved hands behind his back in waiting. It wouldn't be long before the full effect took over.

"Ah, a little presumptuous, are we?" he taunted.

'_I should learn to keep my mouth shut next time.'_

Yes, just a little bit cocky. She would kick herself right now, if she could only feel her legs, but she couldn't.

Quickly, everything began to distort. Her hearing muffled and her vision became narrowed as if she was looking through a bright tunnel. Ashe shook her head and closed her eyes several times to clear the fogginess, but it only intensified. Her head was pounding terribly and was spinning so fast that she might vomit from the sensation. Everyone watched in amusement as the dazed Princess stumbled, tripping over her own foot, and swayed unsteadily losing her balance. A perplexed look plastered Ashe's face as she wondered why the heck the sterling floor was coming at her so fast. Was she hallucinating?

'_SMACK!' _

Nope. When she collapsed, the ground harshly kissed her cheek when it met and Ashe remained conscious for the matter of a few minutes, but her body was completely immobilized. She watched as the activity in the room suddenly flourished. Iron clad boots and greaves moved around her with dexterity as they surrounded her, one pair, in particular, was recognizable at her vantage point on the floor. There was no noise, for once, and Ashe greatly enjoyed it. Her lids started to feel heavy with sleep and her body succumbed to weightlessness as somebody hoisted her limp body off the ground.

Her eyes fluttered as she fought through the haze to keep consciousness. She strained her neck to see what was going on, if this was all just a really bad dream, but the struggle was useless, the drug finally triumphed. The last picture her royal irises captured, albeit blurred, was the prominent dark steel helm of a Judge with his invisible eyes staring down at her before blacking out.

* * *

Please review... No flames, please!

Landis Icelilly


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